Robotech: The Ghost Eagles
by Industrialis
Summary: Revised & Rewritten sequel to "On Wings of Steel." During the Malcontent Uprising, a hidden Protoculture matrix could help the weakened RDF restore order. Rick Hunter leads a squadron of top-secret new Veritechs to find the matrix...
1. Ghost of the Past

ROBOTECH

_The Ghost Eagles_

Written by Industrialis

Re-written by an older and wiser Industrialis.

All references to Robotech © Harmony Gold, Inc.  
All original characters and mecha © the author.

* * *

- Act 1 -

* * *

_CHAPTER 1_

Clouds of dust rolled over the rocks and sand. The sun was beginning to set on a desolate wasteland that stretched as far as the eye could see. But this place was not like most deserts. It was the color of rust and ashes.

This place had once been a great city.

The Zentraedi had struck it with a maelstrom of turbo-laser fire, weapons that had rained down all the way from outer space. Now it lay in ruin; completely uninhabitable.

But unlike the many other destroyed cities, this land was completely flat. Because a Zentraedi battle cruiser had fallen from the sky and crash landed here. Its engines had exploded, and the shock had flattened the once-green earth like a pancake.

The only difference in the landscape was a gaping, massive groove where the cruiser had touched down. It was wide and deep enough to fit an entire city block, and it extended for many miles.

The crevice ran like a scar across the earth and stopped where the Zentraedi cruiser had finally come to rest.

The cruiser was still there. It was half-buried in the ground, standing up like a skyscraper with its destroyed engines pointing back at the sky. Its hull was like a rotting corpse, torn apart with the bones of its structural supports showing. It would probably remain there forever.

Only a few miles away, the people of New Macross could see the old battle cruiser on the horizon, when the sun went down.

_It's been a long time...like it's coming back from the dead._

The clouds broke open and wisped away for the jetfighter beneath them. It rose violently with blasting ramjet engines, a predator from a simpler, long past age.

The F-4 Phantom had flown long before the Robotech Defense Force. Before the nations of the world had combined into the United Global Defense, protected by the amazing technologies of the RDF. Every aspect of the Phantom's design was inferior. It was a heavy, awkward jet that was most effective in air-to-ground attacks. Its tube-like fuselage, dagger wings, and downward-pointed tailfins made the Phantom hard to maneuver. It held a massive payload of bombs and cruise missiles, but had no guns.

_This_ Phantom had no weapons at all; it was totally obsolete. Even its presence in the sky was hard to believe. But it flew, roaring at the point of a long smoke trail. Its dark green camouflage paint made it easily visible over the rocky, barren landscape.

"Delta Base," said the pilot, from behind an old-fashioned respirator attached to his helmet. "This is Dusty One. Checkpoint has been reached."

_Roger that, Dusty One,_ said a voice in his helmet. _We'll have you on radar shortly._

"The sooner the better," replied the pilot. "I want out of this thing."

_What's wrong, Lieutenant? A little bumpy for you?_

He laughed. "Feels like this thing's going to break my back! It's like strapping an engine on a _lawn chair!"_

_Welcome to the 1960's_, said the voice. _Delta Base out._

The pilot scanned his eyes over the patchy clouds below him. "I'd better get some hazard pay for this crap."

He froze in his place, as three incoming fighters burst from the clouds in the far distance.

"Delta Base!" he shouted. "This is Dusty One! I have three bandits, repeat, _three bandits _twelve o'clock high! Please confirm!"

There was a short pause, before the base responded.

_...Dusty, you're still out of range. You're currently in protected airspace...we're trying to contact the pilots._

The fighters closed in fast. They were small, single-engine jets loaded with missiles. Their blue and white paint scheme made it hard for the pilot to follow their path.

"They're not Veritechs!" he called out. "These things are old! Looks like they're armed!"

_All right Dusty, we're confirming that. Keep your present course..._

The jets flew in a diamond formation. They dipped from their altitude and flew straight toward the Phantom, pulling up just in time to fly overhead.

"God! They're buzzing me, Delta! Get me some support!"

_Hold on, Dusty, we're checking for available patrols..._

He could hear the screaming engines chasing him. He turned to see behind the Phantom, but the empty weapons officer's seat was blocking his view.

"Damn this thing! I can't check six! Base, I can't see them but I _know _they're on my six..."

Red lights flashed on his head-up display. The Phantom was missile-locked. He shouted and pulled into a roll, but the fighter barely responded. It was such a slow maneuver that he felt himself lift off the pilot's seat.

But the lock disappeared. The enemy fighters flew overhead once again, scrambling away from their pattern. Two VF-1 Valkyrie fighters gave chase.

_Hang on down there, Dusty One! _came a new voice in his radio. _We'll shake these guys up for you._

* * *

Rick Hunter sat in the Skull One's high-tech cockpit and peered through his helmet visor. One of the bogeys dropped from above him and he nearly flew right past. He quickly throttled down and banked right, finally getting a glimpse of what he was up against.

"They're old U.S. fighters," he said calmly. "Falcons, I think. They'll try to keep us in tight."

_That's all they've got going for them,_ said a reassuring voice; his wingman Max Sterling.

The bogey dove away, and a blue-striped Veritech sped into formation beside him. Its pilot gave a quick salute and throttled the VF-1 into a tight loop.

Rick grinned and armed his missiles. The sound of gunfire rose over his engine growls and he saw the flashes from within the clouds at nine o'clock low. His radar detected the Falcon, locked on and selected "Reaper Cruise Missile" on his main display. Rick flipped the safety lock off of his joystick and fired.

"Skull One, Reaper One!"

The missile disappeared into the haze, and in the distance it flashed to life as a brilliant fireball.

"Confirmed kill!"

_Check six, you've got one headed your way!_

Rick looked back and saw the Falcon approaching. His "Lock Warning" light began to flash. But he kept his calm, leaned back and hit the throttle hard. The computer locked on to the enemy. He tapped at the display screen without looking. "Auto Lock - Auto Fire" flashed on his HUD.

"Skull One, Reaper Two!"

On the Skull One's right wing, the rack of cruise missiles rotated to face reverse. Another Reaper hissed off the wing, flying with deadly accuracy. It slammed into the Falcon in the glass of its cockpit. The explosion tore through the center of the aging fighter and sent the wings and tail falling away.

"Confirmed kill! Two down! How's our Phantom?"

He swung around to join the F-4. It was holding its present course, untouched. The pilot gave Rick a thumbs-up as he passed.

_Bogey Three's on the run, _said Max's voice. _He drew me away, should I pursue?_

"Head back," said Rick. "Our buddy's probably low on fuel..."

A sonic boom shook the air. Rick held his breath and hit the throttle again. His radar showed a fighter coming in from behind, too fast to be another Falcon. His alarm went off immediately. As he looked to his six, he caught view of a Veritech fighter and two incoming missiles.

He released chaff decoys but both missiles were still on his tail. Afterburners blasted him hard into his seat as the Skull hurled itself higher skyward. Rick's hand once again tapped the controls. "Auto Rocket - Manual Fire" showed up onscreen.

Pushing the Skull to maximum thrust, he waited until the missiles began to trail, and he squeezed the trigger. A barrage of swarm rockets flew backward and killed off the missiles.

But the hostile Veritech was still fast approaching. Rick pulled into a loop and swung behind it. "Max!" he called to his wingman. "Looks like these guys have a Valk on their hands. They want us, not the Phantom."

_Roger that, en route to assist._

The Veritech was painted light blue, just as the Falcons were, and it blended in as it danced through the clouds. But the powerful blue glow of its engines gave it away and Rick tailed it closely. When the bogey dove left, Rick noticed an elaborate cross painted on its tailfins.

_The Freedom Cross,_ he thought. _There's nothing Lynn Kyle can't get a hold of._

He banked left to follow his enemy, but the Valkyrie was no longer in his gunsights. He scrambled to check in every direction, but he had lost visual.

He spotted it. Above and to the right, falling fast with its gun pod blazing. Rick throttled up and missed the gunfire. But it made him a little uneasy.

Looping into a barrel roll, he followed the Valk down and was immediately on its six. He wasted no time; his gun pod blasted in short bursts as he tried to find his mark. But the VF-1 was making a hard target, swinging in and out of his gun sights. Rick released a cruise missile, and it locked in mid-flight. But the Valk shot off a chaff decoy and sent the missile off course.

Rick tightened his eyes. _This guy has it together!_

His controls lit up like wildfire. Someone had locked onto him, but the Valkyrie was still fleeing. He looked behind him and saw three missiles, only a breath away from his tailfins. The stray Falcon had returned.

Max's Veritech fell from the sky, in Battloid mode and right in Rick's path. Its leg thrusters slowed its descent as it quickly raised its gunpod rifle. A volley of shells flew over Rick's cockpit; he felt the pounding blasts of the missiles exploding, and his heart skipped as he twisted his Veritech over Max's head. Another burst of fire destroyed the Falcon.

"Nice _shot, _Max!" Rick shouted.

The VF-1 was on another attack run. It dove in from above and to the left, firing its gun wildly. But Rick dropped his throttle and banked hard. The bogey overshot him, and Rick instantly had the stunned pilot's six. He fired his gunpod dead-on, ripping apart the Valkyrie's right engine and snapping off its wing. The wounded fighter poured black smoke as it quickly dove. Its nose disengaged and shot a safe distance away. The pilot ejected from the wreck and pulled his parachute.

_Yeah! Nice kill, Rick! Let's meet this guy at the bottom and bring us home a souvenir!_

Rick was ready to answer, but his radio interrupted with a frantic message. _Skull One! Return to Delta Base immediately! Repeat, return to base immediately!_

"Well Max," Rick said, watching the parachute fall. "Guess we've gotta collect our Phantom and head home."

The Veritech fighters caught up with the F-4 Phantom. It didn't take long. The three flew low to avoid radar detection for the rest of the journey back to base, where the Phantom would remain for the rest of its life.


	2. Touching Down

_CHAPTER 2_

Although the Zentraedi and Human peoples were learning to co-exist, neither of them were growing comfortable. The Zentraedi way of life was totally incompatible with life on Earth. As much as they wanted to – and they certainly had no choice – the alien race could not become accustomed to living as Humans.

They appeared to be cold, prideful people, but in reality they were very afraid. Life on Earth, and the freedoms and emotions that came with it, were totally foreign things to them. Most of them genuinely wanted to fit in. But a small minority of rebels – the Malcontent warriors – was giving all Zentraedi a bad name.

And with good reason; the Malcontent were a terrifying threat. They were Zentraedi soldiers and war generals who suffered what the government called "Malcontent Syndrome." Unable to conform to Human life, they amassed together into armies and lay siege to the cities of Earth. The Robotech Defense Force had been keeping them at bay for nearly two years. Meanwhile, scientists labored intensely to find a cure for Malcontent Syndrome.

The human population hated the Zentraedi. The world governments were trying their best to encourage acceptance, but most people wouldn't hear it. Protestors voiced their hatred whenever possible. Most people weren't as raucous, but they held a deep resentment toward the alien race.

Perhaps the biggest sign of trouble was the growing popularity of Zentraedi _slavery _among humans.

Underground groups were making a considerable profit by selling Zentraedi girls as personal servants. They would round up female Zentraedi warriors, hold them in "control units," and condition them with cruel and inhuman means.

It was very illegal, but Zentraedi slaves were becoming all the rage among the rich businessmen of New Macross. The RDF was aware of the problem, but the Malcontent were keeping the military too busy. Local police were asked to deal with the situation, and rarely did anything to even investigate reports of slavery.

Doctor Melina Ferrin, one of the best-known Zentraedi conditioners, lived at a beautiful estate on the shore of New Macross. She was one of the richest people on the island.

* * *

"I'm confident in my team's abilities. _So_ confident that my company will guarantee your Zentraedi for _two years. _No other establishment offers that kind of insurance."

Doctor Ferran was blunt and sharp-witted by nature. Rarely did she waste time on small-talk and pleasantries. She was a tall, slender woman with fiery red hair and a carefully-pressed business suit. Her appearance seemed to match her razor-sharp mind perfectly.

She leaned forward, pressing her hands on the hood of a stretch limousine. The infamous political activist Lynn Kyle was right before her.

Lynn was taller than she'd expected. His Chinese heritage was minimal, and Lynn was a broad-shouldered, imposing man. He spoke with determination and power. His cousin, the famous singer Lynn Minmei, was nothing like him.

He passed a photograph across the glossy hood of the car. "I want the Zentraedi girl to be identical to that photograph."

Doctor Ferran took the photo. It was Minmei, Kyle's cousin, dressed in a beautiful evening gown and smiling brightly. She was small, petite and bubbling with life.

"To look like Minmei?" asked Ferran with a smile.

"No questions asked," said Kyle.

"Of course not. I have an entire selection of girls that'll match this description."

"_Perfectly," _said Kyle, with stern eyes. "Or no deal."

"I understand, Mister Lynn. You won't be disappointed."

Kyle's limousine door opened and two armed soldiers stepped out. They escorted him into the car, and as it passed by her, Lynn Kyle's window rolled down.

"If you tell anyone about this," he said, "I'll have you completely ruined."

Doctor Ferran smiled. "I respect your privacy, sir. I'll be calling you in a few weeks."

* * *

Lisa Hayes leaned against a tall fence, topped with barbed wire and adorned with various warning signs. Beyond it was New Macross International Airport. The concrete flatlands used to be home to commercial jet liners that carried millions of people across the world. But the RDF had taken over the facility and made it into a Veritech airfield. Powerful VF-1 fighters flew back and forth around the airport all day long, patrolling New Macross and its surrounding cities. The citizens were beginning to hate the sights and sounds. But at least they were protected, for now, from the Malcontent.

Lisa watched the tall towers and their spinning radars, and tried to count the Veritechs flying in taxi, waiting to land. This was the last time she'd see the airport as a commander.

_Admiral Lisa Hayes, _she thought with a stir of excitement. _Admiral Lisa Hayes._

The autumn wind blew at her long jacket. She tied it up tighter and looked at her watch. Rick was late coming in again. If he didn't show up soon, she might need to call a cab and meet him before the ceremony.

_As long as he's all right, we'll work something out._

She heard a siren blare. Ground crews pulled equipment off the runways and the landing strips came to life with bright lights. A Veritech fighter, painted in green camouflage, was being pulled from its hangar. The pilot was still climbing up the ladder to the cockpit.

And then she saw the strangest looking airplane descend from the clouds…

* * *

"Base, this is Skull One. Has our Phantom friend touched down?"

Rick slowly brought the Skull One down from the clouds. As he banked left, he could see the airport far below him. The blue Vermillion fighter descended beside him. The pilot, ace lieutenant Max Sterling, looked to Rick and gave him a thumbs-up. Rick returned the gesture.

"Roger that," said the radio voice from below. "Phantom has just landed. Skull and Vermillion, start your descent and land on runways Three and Five, respectively."

"Roger base, Skull ready," said Rick.

_Vermillion ready_, said Max's calm voice. _Let's bring 'em in, sir. We've got a ceremony to attend._

"We sure do... _oh no!"_ Rick pulled back the sleeve of his flight suit and checked his watch. "We're running a little late, Max. Let's make this a quick one."

The fighters dove together and fell fast. Rick was amazed at how synchronized he and Max still were after all this time. They flew side by side, but Rick still had the lead, and Max was able to mimic his movements perfectly.

The rocky landscape of New Macross grew dangerously close. Rick and Max were at landing height and the airstrips were fast approaching. Both pilots dropped their landing gear and slowly raised their air brakes. Streams of vapor ran off the surface of the wings as the Veritechs came down for landing.

_We'll make it in time, _said Max.

"I hope so. I can't miss this."

_Lisa's really looking forward to it._

"So am I…it's a little hard to believe she'll be an Admiral."

_Your little Lisa is growing up!_

Rick laughed. He felt the tarmac of the landing strip bumping his wheels. The blinking runway lights were blurring past him and the control tower was fast approaching. He could have pulled off a ten-point landing in his sleep.

"Feels like just the other day she was yelling orders at me," said Rick.

_You know, you'd make Admiral too, if you didn't insist on staying in the air._

Max's fighter came down on the runway adjacent to Rick's. He touched down just as effortlessly.

"This is all I'm good at," said Rick. "I'd make a terrible Admiral."

_I dunno, boss…there's been talk…_

"I don't want to hear it. I'm finally getting comfortable here. I'll stick with what I know."

* * *

Rick buttoned up a dress shirt as quickly as he could. A cell phone was balanced between his shoulder and his ear. He was fumbling through his locker with one hand, trying to find the belt he'd thrown in there. _Lisa's going to kill me, _he thought.

Max waved from a few lockers down. "Here! Got an extra one." He tossed a belt across the locker room.

"Thanks Max," said Rick. He looked down at the phone and interrupted the garbled voice coming through. "Listen, General Reave…I mean…sir! I respect your decisions…but this isn't a good idea! You can't keep separating me from Lieutenant Joons like this."

As he listened to the general's reply, he noticed that his shirt was buttoned wrong. He growled under his breath and pulled it apart again.

"Yeah…I know he's a good pilot! But he's young, sir. He needs to stick with me a little longer. He isn't ready to…"

Rick dropped the phone. It crashed on the hard ground and broke.

"Oh well," said Max from across the locker room. "That conversation was about over anyway."

Rick kicked the phone into his locker. "Great," he sighed. "I've gotta call Lisa! How am I…"

Max tossed his own cell phone to Rick. "Catch!"

"Heh, thanks Max. Guess we're still on the same page after all this time."

"Yeah, I know," nodded Max. He straightened his bright blue hair with a comb. "It felt like we were still flying together, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

The mood grew somber for a moment. Rick buttoned his shirt for the second time; Max neatly organized his locker and slammed it shut. Not much had changed over the years. Max still knew how to back up his old leader.

With a crash and a mess of laundry flying through the air, Michael Joons stumbled into the hall. He kicked away a dented laundry cart.

"Commander Hunter, sir!" he called, and tried to salute as he zipped up his Veritech flight suit. He looked exhausted.

Rick told him to calm down. "What's going on?"

"They're calling me back up, sir."

Joons opened his locker with a jolt. It almost hit Rick in the face.

"Up _where?" _asked Rick. "You just finished your run for the day."

"No sir! A military UAV was caught in a firefight with some Malcontent…down in the New Macross Warehouse District. I guess the crew is okay, but the truck is damaged. I've gotta escort it back before they run into more trouble."

Rick shook his head. From inside the locker room, he could hear the loud screams of Valkyrie fighters, constantly taking off and landing at the base.

"They're wearing us out," Rick sighed.

Max nodded. "They're trying…I wonder how much longer we can hold them off."

* * *

The old F-4 Phantom was dormant atop a giant steel pedestal, in front of the tower at Macross Base airfield. As soon as the Phantom had landed, a crew had de-commissioned it, and a Destroid had placed it on its new resting place – as a monument to times past.

The venerable old jet was almost a legend. It was the perfect backdrop for Lynn Kyle's latest political rally.

"What has the Robotech Defense Force done for _you?_" he shouted into a microphone. "What _service _have they performed for _you – _the people of this new world? And let me pose another question…_who elected them?"_

A mass of people had gathered at the steps of the control tower. They watched the charismatic Lynn Kyle as he stepped up higher, raising his voice as he went further up the steps.

He pointed at a husband and wife. "Did _you _elect the RDF?"

The whole crowd replied in unison – _No!_

"That's right!" said Kyle. "_They were not elected! _The RDF is a washed-up, suffering military faction that doesn't work for _anyone. _When the Zentraedi came, the RDF took it upon _themselves _to engage in warfare. But it wasn't war that solved our disputes, was it?"

_No! _screamed the crowd.

"It was kindness, understanding, and love. Our wonderful Miss Minmei taught us that!"

They cheered, at the mention of Minmei's name.

"New Macross doesn't need a bunch of washed-up soldiers bullying it around, and pretending to be a _government! _New Macross needs a true democracy – one that will care for the people, provide for the people, and _protect _the people!"

His words were met with roaring applause. The crowd chanted his name – _Lynn Kyle, Lynn Kyle. _They held up posters and signs – _Down with Death. Zentraedi Are People Too. No More War._

And the most prolific sign of them all: _SDF-Waste!_

* * *

Lisa watched the demonstration from across the street. She was burning with emotion. Part of her wanted to storm into the mob of people and beat them senseless. A bigger part of her wanted to choke the life out of Lynn Kyle.

And most of all, she was deeply and personally hurt.

She found Rick at last; he'd come out of the base through a different exit than usual. He was probably trying to avoid the rally altogether. She didn't blame him.

He waved to her excitedly as he stepped onto the curb. Lisa laughed; Rick was as boyish as ever. He had such an energy about him – it was contagious, even in such depressing times.

"Hey Admiral – _whoa!"_

Rick tried to step into the street, but a car nearly ran him over. Lisa gasped.

"Pay attention, silly!"

"Sorry!" said Rick. Another car passed by.

"Ace fighter pilot," Lisa giggled, "killed by jaywalking!"

Three more cars whizzed by. It was getting late, but the streets were still busy. Rick looked back and forth anxiously.

"Yeah…this is awkward!" he grinned.

"Yes, very much!"

He saw his chance. A city bus was stopping to let off its riders. Rick jumped into the street and bolted across. He made it to the other side with time to spare.

"My hero!" Lisa cried, and gave him a playful kiss.

"Ah, but for _you, _Miss Hayes, I'd cross a New Macross _freeway…_in _rush hour."_

"Oh, how romantic!"

There was an even more difficult task at hand – calling a taxi. Both Rick and Lisa tried hailing, but none of the cabs would stop. They were stranded at the street corner, staring at Lynn Kyle's anti-RDF demonstration.

Lisa gave a sigh. She leaned against a lightpole and shook her head, watching Lynn throw his fist in the air, and hearing the cheers from the crowd.

Rick came back from the curb. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I…I dunno. I just…oh Rick, doesn't that drive you crazy?"

"Hmm?"

"You know…over there." Lisa waved her hand flippantly at the demonstration. "All that garbage. The protests…Lynn Kyle and the whole Freedom movement…"

He gave the protesters a passing glance, but nothing more. "No," he said. "Not really."

"Not even a _little?"_

Rick smiled as another taxi cab passed them by. "We're doing something important…something that has to be done. Not everybody understands it. But I guess…there's nothing we can really do about that."

Another cab flew by them, and they silently decided to just walk to Lisa's place. Veritech fighters roared overhead and busy traffic whizzed past the sidewalk. After a short while, Lisa looked back at the demonstration in front of the base.

She sighed and shook her head. "It just seems so…_disrespectful,_" she said. "After everything we've done…everything we've given up…"

"I know," said Rick. He kicked an empty can of Petite Cola out of his path.

"Rick…this might sound weird…but sometimes…doesn't it feel like _we've_ lost something? Something really…significant."

He nodded and looked up to her. "Yeah…I think I know what you mean."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm so caught up in this war…that I just…missed out on so many things. It's almost like I gave something up, and I can never get it back."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled. "There's still time," he said.


	3. A World Full of Monsters

_CHAPTER 3  
_

Darkness was a part of daily life in the Ferrin Conditioning Center. Since each of the girls had arrived, none had seen sunlight. The concrete walls kept their new home almost pitch black, except for whatever dim flood lamps Dr. Ferrin provided.

The walls were damp from condensation and specked with rust. The girls slept in metal-framed cots against the walls, each with a security camera trained on it. Their rigorous exercise routines took place between the cold walls, and they ate within them as well.

The girls were thin and weak, with sick eyes and tightly shut lips that rarely uttered a word. They wore short, simple gowns and thin slippers day and night, every one the same color as the others. But it was the girls' hair that illuminated the Conditioning Center in a myriad of colors. Beautiful hues of green, blue, gold and red stood out in the space between the cold walls as the girls ate their breakfast on the floor.

When Doctor Ferrin called them, they set down their bowls and stood.

She always appeared from the darkness; none of the girls could figure out how she got into the room. It made her presence all the more terrifying. She always came dressed in a carefully trimmed business suit, with black leather gloves on her hands, and a long knife strapped to her hip.

Usually Ferrin would come in the morning, give the girls their daily lessons and instruct them to practice on their own. Then she would disappear, and only come back to punish the girls who dared to disobey. Her punishments were often shocking.

But today, she remained in the shadows. "I want you to see something," she said. Her voice carried across the walls and made the girls cold with fear.

"I've heard some of you talking about getting out. That someone will come and rescue you. Well today, somebody tried."

Their eyes and lips didn't dare show it, but the girls cried with joy. Until Doctor Ferrin spoke again.

"Here he is."

From the shadows, a lifeless body slid across the floor and stopped under one of the floodlights. It was a young man, who wore a suit of dull green armor. The girls could not read the writing on his back and shoulders. But they saw the blood and the gunshot wounds.

Ferrin stepped into the light beside the corpse. Her knife was clenched in her hand. "His friends saw him die. I scared them all away, and they're never coming back." She sheathed the blade and folded her arms. "Is anyone coming to rescue you, girls?"

They felt like crying; none of them did. "No master!"

"Does anyone _want _to rescue you?"

"No!"

"Does anyone care about you?"

"No!"

She smiled widely. "That's right. You're worthless little _beasts,_ every one of you. Nobody wants to die for you."

At the far end of the floor, a small girl with brightest blue hair looked down. She gripped her bowl and quietly wept. The Master heard, as she always did, and stepped between the others to reach her.

"I'd cut you down in a second," she sneered. "You're not even worth dulling my blade on, you disgusting little _monster."_

The girl gave a downcast nod, but still wept.

"But you should be the last one to cry," said the Doctor. "There's a chance you might be picked."

She gasped and looked up. Her eyes were the same shade of bright blue as her hair.

"His name is Lynn. He's rich and powerful. And if you _obey _him just like I've shown you, he might not treat you worse than _I do. _You don't deserve what you're getting, just remember that."

The Master turned to the rest of the girls. "None of you deserve what you're getting. You're animals. You can't understand what I'm doing for you."

"Thank you, Master," they replied in sorrowful unison.

"Now," she called out loudly. "Since you're not _hungry_ anymore, we're starting lessons early today."

The girls began their exercise routine, each one facing forward without a trace of emotion. But the girl with the bright blue hair, the one who wept, was still watching the flood lamp. She watched the dead man's blood flow onto the concrete, and wished she could understand what the Master was doing for her.

* * *

Michael Joons' Veritech soared through the night sky. He was cruising at minimum thrust, only enough to keep him flying. At twelve o'clock and just above him, an Osprey refueling plane was attaching a long boom to the Veritech's fuselage.

The Osprey was still an impressive sight for Joons. It was larger than Veritech fighters, with long wings and a giant tailfin, but it could maneuver in a dogfight if emergencies called for it. Some Ospreys even had spinning radar discs attached to their backs, and acted as surveilance craft. But this one was a standard refueling and re-arming craft, designed only for supporting the Veritechs.

Joons was still trying to get his helmet to fit. "All right," he said. "We're connected."

_Roger that, Lieutenant…you'll be filled up in no time. _The Osprey's crew called him back through the radio.

"Who am I forming up with?" asked Joons.

_Uh…come again, Lieutenant?_

"I said, who am I _forming up _with? What squadron?"

…_No squadron…you're flying this one solo._

Joons' heart skipped a beat. He sat back in his cockpit seat.

_You shouldn't have any trouble finding the UAV…_

"Nobody _told_me I was flying solo."

_Delta Base doesn't owe you an explanation, Lieutenant._

Joons sighed and shook his head. "Have you swept the area?"

_Twice. It's clear…no hostiles in sight. This is a cakewalk. Just radio the location of the UAV to us, and we'll send down an Evac team._

"Can you give me some Reapers?" asked Joons. He looked out his canopy at a pair of empty Veritech wings.

_You kidding, soldier? There's no way you can fire a missile in the middle of New Macross! You'll shoot with your gun pod, if you shoot at all._

"Fine," said Joons. "Fine…I've just…got a bad feeling about this."

_Just get this over with…we wanna go home too._

Rick and Lisa had to pass through the Warehouse District. It was the quickest way to Lisa's place, but they both wished there was a safer route. Since the RDF had taken emergency control of the industries, the Warehouse District had all but fallen apart.

Buildings were falling apart, with cracks and amber rust crawling up their sides. The streets were always moist from the broken drainage systems. Gangs of Malcontent Zentraedi were rumored to be in hiding, somewhere in the abandoned factories. It was a terrible place to be caught, especially now that night had fallen.

"Why aren't there any RDF patrols out here?" Lisa asked. She pulled her coat collar up against her cheeks.

"I dunno," Rick shook his head. "We know about this place…I guess we're just…short-handed."

Another taxi passed them by. Rick and Lisa quietly watched as it sped away.

"That's unbelievable," groaned Lisa. "What gives?"

"He's probably lost too."

She rubbed her tired eyes. "Rick…we have to get out of here. I don't care if we're late…let's go back."

A pair of bright headlights trained on them from behind. A luxury car pulled up beside them, with black paint that shone under the street lamps. The rear window rolled down.

_I beg your pardon. Do you need a ride?_

It was Lynn Kyle. He leaned out the window with sharp eyes and a very composed smile. He seemed to be enjoying this very much.

"No thank you," Lisa said curtly.

"It's a bad time to be stuck around here. I'll take you where you're going."

"We're perfectly fine walking there, thank you."

Lynn nodded. His eyes seemed to smile, and to pry at her. "Stay here, I'll call you a taxi."

Rick stepped up to the car and leaned forward. "Leave us _be, _Lynn," he said.

"Suit yourself. Enjoy your stroll…perhaps some of your Malcontent _fans_will recognize you."

The car drove off and turned a corner. Lisa was furious, but Rick put his arm around her and told her not to worry about it.

A high-pitched scream and a streak of glowing blue light flashed across the sky. They looked up between the tall buildings around them. Michael Joons' Valkyrie fighter was flying in Guardian mode, with its powerful engines extended into backward-bent legs. Rick and Lisa watched as it hovered down, until it disappeared behind the buildings.

"He didn't have any weapons," said Rick. "That's odd."

"I was thinking the same thing…maybe it's some kind of rescue…"

"I don't even know anymore…"

They passed by an alley without looking. They weren't about to slow down for anything.

* * *

A Zentraedi fell dead on the cold street. His green hair was splashed with thick, red blood. A military assault rifle dropped out of his hands when he hit the ground.

A group of five Zentraedi stepped over his body as they advanced down the street.

Michael Joons had just crawled from the wreckage of his Valkyrie. A rocket-propelled grenade had shot him down as he descended and the Valk had crashed on its side. Michael was alive, for the moment.

He was pinned down behind the Valk's half-buried wing. Leaning over the edge, he shot suppressing fire to slow the Zentraedi's approach. But they were everywhere – at least five of them were on the street, and one more, somewhere in the windows of the buildings. They screamed at him as they grew closer.

_You'll pay for the sins of your people!_

_Death to Micronians!_

_Torture the Human!_

Michael grabbed his radio and called for his comrades in the air.

"Osprey…this is Joons! I'm pinned down…somewhere in the district! My Valk crashed and Zentraedi are approaching!"

The Osprey didn't respond. Michael was left completely on his own. He turned the radio off and attached it to his shoulder.

"Minmei…if I don't see you again…I'm sorry."

He switched his rifle to full-auto and jumped into the clear. His fire dropped every Zentraedi in the street with grim efficiency. And then there was no choice but to run.

He took cover behind parked cars and down alley-ways. Bullets rained all around him, falling from the sky. He couldn't stay in one place long enough to find the shooter.

He caught his breath behind a garbage dumpster. His hands were shaking on the grips of his rifle. And he couldn't think of anything but to make another charge, when the dumpster's lid popped open and a mangy-looking cat crawled out.

It hopped onto the street beside him and looked up, with shining yellow eyes.

Michael smiled and reached for his helmet. It gave him an idea.

He leaned around the dumpster with infra-red goggles on his eyes. There was only time for a quick scan – a split second and nothing more.

And he found his target! Three stories up and across the street, in the window.

He pulled the trigger and a grenade fired from below his gun barrel. It was a perfect shot, right into the window, and the explosion threw the enemy flying into the street.

It was quiet for a while. Michael couldn't pick up any more heat signatures. For the moment, he seemed clear enough to keep moving, and so he went on down the street.

And it came as a shock when he discovered the Urban Assault Vehicle. He'd been looking for it in the first place, but he'd almost forgotten about it.

It was a hulking, six-wheeled truck covered with armor plates. A turret on its roof had a high-caliber cannon attached to it. The UAV was motionless and its engine was shut off. If he could get the vehicle started, it would save his life.

After a careful approach, he dashed for the rear door and grabbed the handle. The door slid open with ease. It was unlocked.

He jumped into the UAV's belly and switched on his rifle-mount light. And instantly, he was face-to-face with a beautiful Zentraedi girl, dressed in rags.

Michael was stunned. He stopped and stared at the girl, and she stared back. Her eyes grew hollow and she started to cry.

"No…no, wait…it's okay…" Michael slowly lowered his gun and approached her.

He felt something moving behind him. Before he could turn around, a powerful blow met the back of his head.

* * *

_Rick, can you get my uniform for me?_

"Where is it?"

_Hanging up in the living room!_

Rick ran across Lisa's apartment flat and found her officer's uniform, pressed just right. He couldn't believe that in just a few hours, Lisa Hayes would be the RDF's newest admiral.

"Okay, I got it! You want it now?"

_No…gimme a second…_

" 'Kay," nodded Rick. He wasn't wearing his own officer's uniform. He wished he was. But Lisa didn't mind at all. He _did _just come back from a sortie, after all. Lisa was thrilled that Rick could even make it.

Lisa growled from behind her bedroom door. _I can't find my shoes! s_he cried.

Rick looked down quizzically. "Why are you looking for your shoes? You don't have your _uniform _on."

_Because I need them eventually!_

"I'll help you find them later," said Rick. "Just get dressed…we've got plenty of time."

He looked at the clock on Lisa's wall: they had forty-five minutes.

_No we don't!_cried Lisa. _We have forty-five minutes!_

"Don't worry!" he laughed. "I'll help you find whatever you need."

He strolled around the apartment, looking for a pair of shoes, and wondering what the shoes even _looked _like. He almost got down on his knees, but realized that Lisa's uniform was still in his hands.

Another cry of frustration came from Lisa's bedroom. This time it was followed by some loud banging.

"…Ready yet?" asked Rick.

_Aughhh! Rick I am doing my hair, wait a minute! Oh, I need to get into the bathroom now…_

He sighed and stepped up to the bedroom door. "Relax…you look wonderful!" he called.

Some more violent banging. _You aren't even in here!_

"You looked wonderful _before _you went in there!"

She threw something against the wall. _Oh, what do you know!_

Rick was a little taken aback. He leaned his head against the door and gave a little knock.

"…Hey," he said quietly.

Lisa stopped making so much noise. She sighed and whispered back. _No, Rick…I didn't mean…I'm just…_

The door opened up a little. Lisa peeked her head, and a bare shoulder, into the open and gave him a pleading smile.

"I'm sorry, Rick…I didn't mean that. I'm just really…upset, I guess."

"You look wonderful," he said again. "The most beautiful admiral in the whole fleet."

She looked up with her emerald green eyes. "Thank you," she said.

* * *

Doctor Ferrin was nervous as she stood in her "business room" above the Conditioning Center. It was lavishly appointed with fine paintings and sculptures, a mahogany table and leather sofas. A bottle of expensive wine was on ice at the table, and two glasses had yet to be touched.

One of the walls was a two-way mirror. It looked down to the first floor, where the girls lay in the darkness. The window was covered with steel plates. And it was at this window that Lynn Kyle stood in patient wait.

"I apologize," she told him. "A little disturbance among the creatures. Some of them are still learning."

"It's a long process," he said as he straightened his tie. "If only we could impose such obedience on the rest of the Zentraedi. Then we'd only have the RDF to deal with."

"Indeed," she nodded quickly. "Now if you'd like to wait outside, I'll be happy to bring yours to you."

Lynn frowned. "Not so fast," he said. "Can't I see how she acts around the other girls?"

"I'm afraid not," said Ferrin. "I'm having trouble with the security on that window. It won't open."

With the raise of an eyebrow, Lynn pressed a few buttons at the window's controls.

"Is that so..."

The steel plates opened away. Lynn glanced down at the cave below. The floor was smeared with blood. Two RDF soldiers lay on the cold concrete, motionless. The girls sat on their beds, looking at them with horrified eyes.

"It seems you're not telling me everything," he stared down at her coldly. "I rely on my business associates to be trustworthy."

"Wait!" she cried. "I can explain!"

Lynn Kyle crossed his arms. His eyes grew steely and cold.

"Sir, you must believe that I have _everything _under control. This is all part of their conditioning. They're being taught that no one will come to rescue them. I'm always looking for new ways to impress their_worthlessness _upon them...and this is my newest one."

He looked right through Doctor Ferrin, at the gruesome scene below. "Are they real soldiers?"

Ferrin smiled. "Of course not," she said.

"The girls look terrified."

"They can't feel a_thing, _trust me."

Lynn pushed the buttons on the console again, and the window shut. He examined Doctor Ferrin's clean business suit, and her perfect red hair.

"You surprise me, Doctor," he said. "At first glance, you don't look like a monster."

She gave a strong stare right back at him. "Mister Lynn, this is a _world_ full of monsters."

* * *

Michael Joons opened his eyes. He heard a distant sound – the dragging of chains.

His vision was blurry at first, but it began to focus after a moment. He looked over his surroundings. Concrete walls, cold floors, and almost no light.

He looked beside him. An RDF soldier was laying face-down on the floor. Bloody wounds covered his back. Gunshots, and slash marks from a knife.

"…Where am I…"

He crawled to his feet. He was so dizzy, he could barely stand. But when he fell backwards, someone caught him.

It was a green-haired Zentraedi girl, dressed in a ragged gown. She looked at him with hollow eyes.

"Who are you?" Michael whispered. But the girl wouldn't speak. She ran her thin, weak hand along Michael's arm, and then stepped away into the darkness.

The sound of dragging chains came again.

"What's going on here!" Michael cried.

_We live here, _said a voice from behind him. _This is where the Master teaches us._

He turned around; a row of dirty, rusted cots was lined up on the concrete wall. Pale girls with beautiful colored hair sat in their beds, watching him. They were all Zentraedi.

"Tell me what's going on!" he shouted. "Why are you here…!"

His boot stepped on a clay bowl, crushing it. Dozens of bowls were lined up on the floor, in a perfect row. They were filled up with uneaten gruel.

He felt just as cold as the girls did. Whenever he looked at one, he could feel how numb and terrified she was. He could connect with each one of them. They were Zentraedi – his sisters.

_We are animals, _said one of the girls. Her voice made Michael's head ache.

_The Master teaches us how to behave,_ said another girl.

_We do not understand, _said another.

A drop of water fell on Michael's head. He looked up at the ceiling and saw the network of security cameras that watched over the chamber. The cameras' lenses zoomed in on Michael.

"Who are you!" he cried. "Why are you _doing _this!"

He stumbled away from the gaze of the cameras. His head pounded and he lost his balance, falling hard into a pool of water. His face crashed into the cold ground and the water stung his eyes.

When he rubbed them out, he saw his reflection. His armor was slashed to pieces with knife-marks. The slashes were cut into his chest, so that they formed letters. Not human, but a Zentraedi message.

It was the Zentraedi word for "Dead."

But Michael Joons felt no pain.

Another voice startled him.

_Please…tell her that I am sorry._

Michael pulled himself off the ground. A Zentraedi girl was beside him, chained to the foot of her bed. She had the most beautiful blue hair, and the coldest, most fearful eyes.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "What…_happened _to you?"

_Please, _she whispered. _Tell her that I am sorry…I did not mean to offend her…I want to be chosen…please tell her that I am ready…_

"Wait…calm down," Michael whispered back. "What's your name?"

_I am Naoko,_ she said.

"My name is Joons. I'm here to help you."

The girl shook her head. _No…you are dead. You cannot help._

"No, listen to me. I'm going to help you."

_Have you come to punish me? Is the Master going to teach us a lesson?_

The girls all bowed their heads. _Teach us! _they all cried.

"No! No…stop it. Don't say that."

_Teach us, Master…we are ready._

"Stop it! This is_wrong!_"

_Teach us, Master…we are ready._

Michael grabbed Naoko's chains, and broke them with his bare hands. He pulled the chains off and threw them into the security cameras. Alarms went off; red lights flashed. The girls hid their eyes and screamed.

Michael Joons staggered to his feet. "Where are you! Who _did _this to them! Come on…show yourself!"

A flash of white light opened in the far wall. And the girls' master, a Melina Ferrin, appeared with a combat knife in her hand.

"Which one of you girls _helped him live?_" she shouted. "Whichever it was…I will punish you _so severely _that you will _never _forget…!"

_No Master!_

_It was not I, Master!_

_Please do not punish me!_

Michael Joons watched as Doctor Ferrin came closer. He stared at her with fire in his eyes.

"You…_monster!"_he sneered.

Ferrin only smiled. "You hate them just as much as I do," she said. "You kill them every day."

"You…damned_monster."_

"I wonder how you survived," said Ferrin. "Maybe one of these girls has an ability she hasn't disclosed to me? Well, I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen again."

Naoko gave a piercing scream; she fell on her knees and began to plead. Joons charged across the chamber as quickly as he could.

Doctor Ferrin raised her other hand. She looked down the sights of a pistol, aimed at Joons. _Crack, _the gun flashed.

But Joons didn't slow down. The girls' eyes grew wide, as they watched on their beds.

_Crack, _another shot fired. But Joons only ran faster.

He moved swiftly, grabbing her arm and twisting it back until she dropped the pistol. He spun around, threw his elbow into her face, and twisted her legs with a sweeping kick. Doctor Ferrin hit the ground with a cold _slam._

She howled in agony. The combat knife was in her stomach.

Joons kicked the pistol up into his hands. _Crack-Crack-Crack! _He fired three shots.

The girls couldn't believe their eyes. Their master was quiet and still, laying in blood, in a pile of crushed food bowls.

Michael Joons dropped the gun. He turned to face the girls. There were two bullet holes in his chest armor. He fell on his knees, and then on his face, next to the girl named Naoko.

* * *

A taxi cab pulled up in front of Lisa's apartment complex. She came out the front door, dressed in her brand new uniform and looking beautiful as ever. The only thing missing was her Admiral's medal. She would have that within the hour.

Rick was missing too – but not for long. He came crashing through the doors behind her, a moment later. He'd found just enough time to change into his own uniform. He was straightening his tie as he ran toward the curb.

"So…how come this ceremony's so late?" he asked.

"Oh…they always do it later in the day," said Lisa. She didn't want Rick to know the real reason; it was the only way Mayor Saul could find the time.

Rick finally caught up. "How do I look?"

Lisa giggled and brushed his hands off his tie. She straightened it perfectly for him. "Just fine," she replied. "Do I look nervous?"

He gave her a kiss. "You look wonderful. I'm so proud of you…"

The rumble of a Robotech TC-1 transport interrupted them. The RDF vehicle pulled up and stopped beside the cab. A soldier called to Rick from the gunner's position, a seat on the roof.

"Commander Hunter! We've been looking everywhere for you, sir!"

Rick grew sick. "What's wrong?"

"Sir, something's happened in the Warehouse District! We've brought down one of the Zentraedi slave traders!"

Both Rick and Lisa gave a sigh of relief.

"That's great news," Rick said. "I was beginning to think Admiral Reave wasn't sending anyone _in _there. Glad to hear they're cleaning the place up."

He helped Lisa into the cab, but the soldier called out again. "Uh…sir…that's not all."

Rick looked back. "…It's not?"

"No, sir. Your wingman…Lieutenant Joons. He was the one who discovered the traders. He's…been wounded, sir. I've been ordered to take you to base, immediately."

He stopped in his tracks, staring at the soldier and the TC-1. His hand slipped off the door of the taxi.

The cab's door shut. Lisa had pulled it closed. Her face was smiling but her eyes were full of tears.

* * *

The Warehouse District was alive with RDF activity. Veritechs roared in from the sky, dropping supply crates full of medicines and food. Transport trucks rolled down the streets, filled with rescued Zentraedi servants, and bound for hospitals. Heavily armed soldiers covered the blocks, watching the buildings with their assault rifles ready.

Lynn Kyle watched it all with a coldly solemn face.

"How long have they been _treated_ like this?" he asked, as he walked with an RDF soldier to his limousine.

"Months, probably," said the soldier. "We've been spread so thin lately, we haven't been able to cover this area. These poor Zentraedi have been stuck here for a while."

"It's such a shame," said Lynn. "Such a waste of life. Have they all been recovered?"

"All but one. A girl with blue hair…she ran off down the street before we could catch her. We hope we can find her soon."

Kyle sighed. He shook his head, and stepped into his waiting limousine. "If there's anything I can do, let me know. I want these girls to receive the_best_ possible care."

"Thank you, sir," said the soldier. "You know…you're not as bad as everybody _says_ you are."

Kyle grinned at him. "I like to think not," he said, and shut the door.

As the limo rolled away, he rested comfortably in his seat. He watched the Veritech Guardians stomping down the streets, carrying cargo and supplies into the neighborhood. The RDF war machine had made itself another stronghold.

He smiled, when he remembered what the Doctor had told him.

_It's a __world full of monsters._


	4. Sacrifice

_CHAPTER 4_

Rick stood quietly beside the examining table, as he had done many times before. Whenever Michael Joons was wounded in action,Rick always felt obligated to stay with him. They had been through some terrible times together. And lately, Joons wasn't taking very good care of himself.

He lay quietly on the table, but very alert. His armor was removed from his chest and arms. Bandages were taped to various places on his body. But his breathing seemed normal, and his eyes were clear as they watched Doctor Emil Lang enter the room.

The doctor's tall, imposing appearance, his dark eyes, and his heavy accent were off-putting to most. Rick could tell that Joons didn't care much for Doctor Lang.

"All right, Lieutenant Joons," Lang said sternly. "I have the results of your scans."

Joons pulled himself up. He struggled a little, but was able to sit on his own. "How do I look?" he asked.

Doctor Lang shook his head. "No damage to internal organs, no broken bones, no internal bleeding." He set a stack of papers down beside Joons. "Even your bruises are healing."

"I...guess it wasn't as bad as I thought."

"I want to show you this as well," said the doctor. He handed Joons another piece of paper. "I studied the armor you were wearing, and the bullets we removed from your body. You were hit with armor-piercing rounds."

Joons looked closely at the page. He took a deep breath. Rick looked over his shoulder and winced.

"Two rounds entered the chest armor, starting _here _and passing through your mid-section. Both of the rounds exited through your back, right here."

Doctor Lang tapped the paper with a pen. "You should have suffered broken ribs, collapsed lungs and a shattered spine. To risk sounding macabre, I'm amazed that you even survived."

Joons blinked his eyes. "I guess...Zentraedi can take a lot of punishment."

"Not _that _kind of punishment," said Lang. "Zentraedi are _men_, just like humans."

Rick leaned against Joons' table. "So...what does it mean?" he asked. "It was a miracle?"

"Not quite, Commander. But to a scientist, it might as well be."

Lang rubbed his dark eyes, and glanced at the clock as he spoke. "For months now, I've been studying a large group of Zentraedi men and women. It seems that the cloning process was _customizable_, which means that some Zentraedi soldiers might not be equally endowed with their fighting abilities. They could have been _pre-assigned _a set of abilities pertaining to their military tasks."

Joons rubbed at the bandages on his chest. "I...don't think I follow, Doctor."

"All right, take Miriya Sterling for example. She's been a pilot since her days in the Zentraedi fleet. Her piloting skills are so well tuned, I'm willing to bet she was _bred _to be a pilot."

"I see," said Rick. "But we don't know what Joons was...or...was _supposed_ to be."

"Right," said Lang, with a nod. "Miriya Sterling doesn't have this amazing survival ability that Joons' body exhibits. You may have been designed as a foot soldier. A front-line combatant."

"Long story short," said Joons dryly. "Will I be okay?"

Doctor Lang grinned proudly. "You'll be just fine, young man. I doubt a _freight train_ could slow you down. But keep in touch with this department. If you feel unwell for any reason, contact the physicians."

They said their goodbyes to Lang and watched him leave. Joons sighed heavily as the door shut.

"I hate when he talks about me like that. It freaks me out."

"Don't let him bother you," said Rick. "He gets a little carried away sometimes."

"He's picking at me like I'm some kind of _experiment. _Every time I come here to get patched up, he starts running his mouth about my _cloning _like I'm not even in the room."

Rick found it hard to respond. "Yeah...I know," he said.

"It's like he discovered some rare new specimen and he can't wait to show his friends." Joons laughed shakily. "I feel like I'm one step away from the pickle jar."

Rick tried to laugh with him. "Come on, man."

Joons pulled one of the gauze straps off of his chest. A dark bruise lay underneath. "Look at this," he said. "They're putting band-aids on bullet wounds. They can't figure me out..."

He rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. "They don't even know what I am. It scares me to death sometimes."

Rick patted his hand on Joons' shoulder and smiled. "What's more to know?" he asked. "You're Skull Two."

Joons shut his eyes and nodded solemnly.

Rick hopped off the table and looked at the clock. "I think I missed Lisa's ceremony," he laughed. "She's gonna kill me."

"I'm sorry," said Joons quietly.

The silence was uncomfortable. Rick thought he might change the subject to something more pleasant.

"Oh, hey! Weren't you supposed to go out with Minmei tonight?"

Joons shook his head. "She canceled. Photo shoot or something. Maybe next week, she says." He looked behind the table at his shattered chest armor. "Did those girls make it out all right?"

Rick had to think about the question. "Oh! The girls. Yeah, they got taken away in a TC-1." He paused for a short moment. "All except for one. She ran off... they went looking but they couldn't find her."

"Mmm." Joons tightened his eyes. "I hope she's all right."

"You probably saved her life," said Rick.

He nodded in return. "I guess...whatever's left of it."

* * *

Lisa tried to catch her breath. She looked down at her formal dress whites; they were still missing the RDF Admiral's medal.

A small group of powerful figures sat before her at a council table. Mayor Saul waited impatiently with his arms folded. Admiral Reave looked as imposing as ever. And between them, dressed in an officer's uniform ornamented with Zentraedi battle armor, was the seven-foot-tall Admiral Breetai.

Behind Lisa, a host RDF officers watched from the rows of seats. It was a packed house for this ceremony.

Breetai was a solemn and powerful presence, but to Lisa he was a friend. He watched the conference room door, which remained closed. He waswaiting for Commander Hunter.

Lisa noticed a curt glance from Mayor Saul. "We...can begin," she whispered shyly. Her voice carried around the spacious room.

"Yes, why don't we?" said the mayor quickly. "We're all very busy people..."

Reave turned a cold stare upon him. "Surely we can afford Miss Hayes the time for a formal ceremony. Don't forget that she saved your _entire city_."

Breetai looked down at Lisa. His eyes seemed to show concern. "Are you...expecting anyone else, Commander?"

"No..." Lisa tried to keep her voice from shaking. "No...I think we can go on with the ceremony.

He nodded solemnly, stood up, and filled the hall with his deep and powerful voice.

"Then let it be known that we are honored to be present on such a celebrated occasion. On this day, Commander Lisa Hayes has been unanimously recommended by the United Global Defense... to the position of Admiral."

Breetai's every word shook the walls. He spoke as though the entire world was gathered together to watch Lisa. But all she really needed was Rick Hunter.

* * *

Her apartment was lit with a host of candles when she arrived, candles that she had lit herself. They were half-burned now, dripping long strands of wax into the plates around them. Their warm, flickering light danced gently on her walls and ceiling.

Lisa shut her door and slid the deadbolt locked. She set her purse on the coffee table beside her sofa. And once she slid off her muddy shoes, she began blowing out each of the candles. On the mantle above her television, and the small bookcase, and the kitchen counter. She went across the apartment in silence and snuffed out each of the flames, until a dark haze began to linger about. And the only candles left were at the dinner table.

They were long and thin, with tiny flames that struggled to fight off the darkness. Lisa had set a table for two with her best china and glasses of fine crystal. An ice bucket held a bottle of wine. Lisa left the two candles burning, as she began to clear off the table.

She carefully stacked the plates in her kitchen cabinets. Silverware went in the drawers, and the crystal was wrapped up in newspaper before it returned to a dusty box.

A dim glow came from beyond her open bedroom door. She wondered why she had lit candles in her room; remembered how giddy she felt when she lit them on a whim. And how she had laughed and blushed when she found out that the candles were scented.

She frowned and shook her head. Carrying the bottle with her, she rushed to put them out.

But as she rounded the corner to her bedroom, a tiny squeak made her heart stop. She nearly stepped on a mouse in the hallway. It scurried around her legs in the dark, bumping into the walls in search of a way out.

Lisa screamed and jumped. She lost her balance; threw her hands in the air. The floor met her back as she fell hard. And the bottle of wine crashed against the headboard of her bed, spilling its contents and pieces of glass.

She scrambled to her feet and pressed against the wall. The mouse had escaped. She regained her composure, took a deep breath, and stepped defiantly into the bedroom.

Glass was littered across the hardwood floor, and her bed sheets were soaked with a blood-red stain. Her dresser, and even the lamp at her bedside, would be impossible to reach. And the scented candles were still lit.

Lisa took off her uniform and folded it as well as she could in the dark. She left the rest of her clothes in a pile on the floor, and went back into the kitchen. A cold draft blew across her body, from that window in the corner that she could never get to shut. She tensed her muscles and refused to shiver.

Leaning over the dinner table, she blew out the pair of candles. Her breath faltered as she did. The apartment slid into the midnight darkness.

She curled up on the couch, tucking her bare legs into the cushions. The scent of the last two candles began to find her. She closed her eyes, drew her hands into fists, and sobbed until she fell asleep.

* * *

Joons looked up at the apartment complex where Lisa lived. Rick was at his side; he shot Joons a worried glance.

"Nice place," Joons nodded.

"Not nice enough for an Admiral," said Rick, with a long, discouraged look at the place. "I think I'll stay for a while. You need a ride home?"

Joons shook his head. "I'll walk. I need some time to think. Thank you, sir."

They parted ways, and Rick quietly stepped into the apartment complex.

He stopped at her door; the first door on the left. _Maybe I shouldn't...I mean...what would I say? What am I going to tell her? And I've gotta wake her up to say it!_

But he gathered up his courage and opened the door, using the key Lisa had given her. He stepped quickly inside, shutting the door behind him. He could barely see his way around. But the streetlamp outside was bringing some light in through the window. It was enough to make out most of the apartment, and to see the burned-out candles that filled it.

His heart sank terribly. _She had something planned for us._

He needed to think. There was no way he could wake her now. He decided he would sit down and gather his thoughts, write her an apology note, and try to sneak back out before he woke her up. _That's all I need, _he mused. _On top of it all, to scare her to death by poking around in her apartment..._

But when he looked over the sofa, he found Lisa. Almost naked, half-buried in the cushions, and shivering as she slept.

His heart sank even deeper. He quickly stepped away.

Tiny pieces of glass crushed under Rick's boots as he crept into her bedroom. He found the broken neck of a wine bottle lying beside her dresser. His mind raced with terrible images of what might have transpired that night.

_All because I couldn't be there, _he thought.

He opened her closet and pulled out every blanket he could find. Trying not to step on the glass, he managed to make it back to the sofa where Lisa lay.

For a brief moment, it was all he could do to just watch her sleep. He was shocked at seeing her like this. Lisa was strong and self-sufficient, she was mature and had a quiet sense of pride. She was never fragile, naked and helpless, as Rick saw her now.

He turned his eyes away. _What an idiot I am, _he scolded himself. _I've just put her through the worst night of her life, and all I can think about...is how beautiful she is._

One by one, he lay the blankets over her, and gently tucked her in. Lisa turned over in her sleep and drew the covers close to her. Her shivering slowly went away.

Rick knelt beside her. He wished he could take her hand, begin his explaining, talk all through the night if he had to. But it was too late. Lisa Hayes had been let down again.

"Mmhh... Rick..."

He quickly looked up. She was dreaming; her beautiful green eyes were still closed.

"...Rick...where are you..." she moaned.

His hand brushed away her long hair, and he touched her cheek. "I'm right here, Lisa," he whispered.

She yawned and slowly stretched her legs. "...oh...okay."

He chuckled under his breath, and wrapped her up tighter in the blankets. She cuddled them warmly, and he couldn't help but smile. When she seemed to get cozy and she finally settled down, Rick thought it would be best to leave.

But before he could get up, Lisa began to moan again. "mhh...Rick..."

"Yes?" he said softly.

"...where'd you go..."

He breathed a little laugh. "I'm still here."

"...oh...don't go?"

"I won't. I'll stay right here."

"...mmkay..."

Rick covered his smiling face. He sat on the hardwood floor, and tried to find a comfortable spot against the sofa. There didn't seem to be one.

"...Rick..."

"Yeah, Lisa?" he whispered.

"...just...making sure..."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm still here," he said again.

"...okay...kiss me?"

Rick was startled. _Did...she mean it? Should I really -- what if I wake her? I can't just...I mean, she's not even..._

Lisa stirred under the sheets. "...mmhh...please?"

He couldn't resist. He carefully leaned over her, and tenderly kissed her lips. Lisa's breathing rose in a quiet little gasp, and she uttered the most beautiful sigh he'd ever heard.

He smiled, dumbstruck, and kissed her on the cheek for good measure. But she seemed to pout a frown "...nuh-uh...just one," she whispered.

Rick rubbed his face in disbelief. _Good grief, _he thought, and sat back against the sofa to sleep.

* * *

The city of New Macross was alive. More alive than it had ever been in 1999.

It had a busy, successful downtown area where businesses thrived. It was a crowded, but very pleasant, place to live, with all the latest luxuries in every apartment complex. It had a wonderful nightlife atmosphere. It was, by any account, the perfect place to live. Just as it always had been.

From a distance, it would look as though the Earth had changed _around _New Macross.

Sixty percent of the planet was a scorched, barren desert. Much of the fresh waters had either dried up or become poisoned. Great mountain ranges were now flattened heaps of dusty rock. In some regions, entire continents were without vegitation or water.

Evidence of cataclysm was everywhere. The ruins of Zentraedi battle cruisers were half-buried in the sand and rocks. Skeletons of long-dead soldiers littered the fields. In these lands, there were immense stretches of wasteland between inhabited cities.

New Macross was one of the few cities that survived in the middle of a great wasteand. And it was all thanks to Robotechnology. The RDF had based its biggest operation, the SDF-3, in New Macross. The plan was to create an expeditionary starship -- a new Super Dimension Fortress. Fueled by protoculture, it would travel to the Zetraedi homeworld and convince the alien leaders to make peace.

But the RDF was amid a crisis -- it had run out of protoculture.

Michael Joons walked through the streets. It was a busy night in New Macross. The lights and sounds of downtown made him depressed.

_Don't these people realize what it costs to make all this?_ he thought. _They're sucking up all the protoculture._

He was right. New Macross was a double-edged sword. In order to keep the people of Earth hopeful, it had decided to rebuild Macross City into greatness. But after many failed attempts, the RDF resorted to using its only Protoculture Matrix to build -- and sustain -- the city.

So as New Macross grew bigger, the RDF grew weaker. All of its Robotech projects were grinding to a halt. And the SDF-3 was hidden, half-completed, somewhere in the desert without a Matrix to power it.

Joons watched as a young family -- a husband, wife, and baby boy -- went excitedly into a movie theater. The computer-animated movie _Trucks_ was advertised on the marquee. And all down the street leading to the City Center, restaurants and clubs were alive with business.

_We can't live like this forever,_ Joons thought. _We're ignoring what's important. The humans and the Zentraedi...they hate each other! And New Macross is burning our protoculture on worthless things! Sooner or later...someone will have to make a sacrifice._

His eyes followed the street, until it ended at the City Center. Between the skyscrapers stood the mighty SDF-1. The original Super Dimension Fortress. It was planted in the ground, like a skyscraper itself, to forever remind the people of what they once endured.

Joons shook his head with disgust. _It's so sick, _he thought. _It's there to remind them...but they're still forgetting. They don't even want to remember anymore._

He shook his head, watching the SDF-1 stand still in the middle of the city. It was covered with bright flood-lights, bathing the Fortress in a soft glow despite the dark night. Ironically, the very power that came form these lights was helping to deplete the RDF's energy.

Joons gave a sigh. _Someone will have to make a sacrifice…_


	5. Matter of Time

_CHAPTER 5_

Lynn Kyle stood at the helm of one of the world's most advanced communication centers. It didn't appear very organized – server towers filled the space, and bundles of cable ran across the floor. Spare computer parts filled cluttered desks. And in the midst of it all, technicians ran between computer screens trying to keep everything running.

But somehow, it worked. It was the nerve center of the Freedom Cross – and the side of Lynn Kyle's organization that no one knew about.

He was joined by Ayanami Raine, his personal assistant. She was nearly as mysterious as Lynn Kyle. A tall, thin woman with deep red hair, she seemed to appear everywhere Lynn did. She was always in a jet-black business suit and matching skirt. She never smiled, and rarely said a word.

Lynn Kyle looked down at one of the computer screens. It was showing an image of the moon, partially covered in shadows.

"How long until the far side comes into view?" he asked a technician.

"Just a few minutes, sir. The satellite is ready to take photographs."

Kyle nodded. "Miss Raine," he said, "would you like to see this?"

She stepped up behind him and looked over his shoulders. Within moments, all of the computer screens switched to the image of the moon. As the shadows enveloped the cratered surface, the picture quickly zoomed in. Still pictures began zipping out of printers all over the room, falling in piles on the floor.

The picture kept zooming. It finally stopped and focused itself, adding artificial light. Amid the huge mountains and craters, there was a wrecked, crashed Zentraedi battle cruiser.

The whole place erupted with excitement.

_We found them! We found them!_

_Look at that picture…it's perfect!_

_See if you can zoom in closer!_

Miss Raine stared at the screens, quiet and calm.

Lynn Kyle turned to her and smiled. "This is an important day for us," he said. "We can't fight an enemy we don't understand. But now…we can stare right at him."

Miss Raine nodded quietly.

Kyle shouted out loud. "Now, bring our matrix up on every screen!"

The technicians went to work. Soon every monitor displayed a picture from some secret location, where armed soldiers stood watch in a tightly locked-down warehouse. A massive, reinforced metal container stood in the cavernous space. From thin windowed spaces, it glowed a powerful bright hue that lit the entire warehouse.

It was the glow of pure, intensely powerful energy – of protoculture.

"How does it feel," said Kyle, "to know that you're about to change the _world."_

* * *

_It's not like I'm going to change the world._

Lisa lay on the sofa with her eyes closed. She was heavy hearted – guilty about the night before.

_So what…I'm promoted. I'm an admiral now. I'm just another cog in the machine. Nobody even cares…_

She sighed, and rolled around to bury her face. But she was suddenly surprised.

_Am I…am I wrapped up in…blankets?_

She blinked open her sleepy eyes. She _was _wrapped up – in so many blankets, she could barely move. There was even a pillow tucked under her head.

"But…I don't understand…"

She looked over the edge of the sofa, and found Rick Hunter curled up on the floor. He was in his socks, and still wearing his military fatigues. His back was pressed up against the sofa; he was sleeping in a stiff, uncomfortable way.

Lisa covered her smiling mouth with a handful of blankets. She sat for a while and watched him. It melted her heart; she could have stared at him forever, but after some time she felt playful enough to try and wake him.

She reached behind her, took the pillow and tossed it on his head.

_Mmmph! …Hey. Mmmh._

Lisa pulled a blanket off and flopped it down on him.

_Mmmhh! Mmm. Stoppit._

Rick tried to roll over in his sleep. But the more he struggled, the more he tangled himself up in the blanket. It wasn't long before he was tied up in some strange knot, lying on his back.

She tried to keep from giggling – but she couldn't help herself. She let out a burst of laughter, and gasped and stuffed the blankets over her mouth again.

Rick blinked his eyes. He slowly shook off the sleep, all the while trying feebly to get himself out of the blanket. He was finally mostly awake, staring up at Lisa with the most confused look on his face.

She waved down at him. "…Hi," she giggled.

Rick yawned. "Hi…um…I'm on the floor, I guess."

"At my place," she nodded, still laughing.

"Hmm? Oh – _oh yeah_."

He fought the blanket for the last time. But instead of untangling it, he ended up ripping the thing in half. Lisa found this hilarious.

"You look so uncomfortable!"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, with half a blanket still wrapped around his neck.

"Aww…come on…I'll get you on the couch."

"Mmm…not a good idea."

"Why not?"

Rick stretched out on the floor. "I slept kinda funny…I think my neck is stuck like this."

Lisa slid to the edge of the sofa. "Well…" she said with a smile. "Maybe I can make it feel better."

She fell against him on the floor, and they both disappeared under the blankets. It was a mess of arms, legs, laughter and cotton sheets.

_Hold still, silly!_

_Hey. Hey, I'm serious…it hurts. Hey come on, I just woke up!_

_Where…where does it hurt? Right here? Let me rub it for you._

_Caref – ouch!! Hey not so hard!_

_Did that hurt?_

_Yeah! But I don't care._

_Ha ha! Okay…now hold still. I'll be more gentle._

The big poof of blankets slowly died down, until it draped over their bodies on the floor.

_Oooh…yeah, right there…hey that feels good._

_See, I told you…hmm…you know, you look good in uniform._

_Thanks…and you look beautiful in…oh, wow.  
_

_What?_

…_You're still in your underwear._

There was a brief moment of silence, and then – the whole apartment complex could have heard Lisa's scream.

* * *

Lisa scrubbed at a big red stain on her bedroom floor. She was wrapped up in a bathrobe for the moment – the sooner she dabbed out the wine stain, the better.

Rick was right at her side, helping her.

"So…it was a mouse?" he asked.

"Yeah. Scared me to _death," _she sighed.

"I thought you liked animals."

"Yeah, the big cute ones! Things you can cuddle with. I don't like anything that…_scurries."_

Rick laughed. "I wonder how a mouse got up to the sixth floor, anyway."

"I'm trying not to think about it. I can't wait until he's gone. And now this mess is going to cost me a _fortune!"_

She scrubbed even more furiously. It seemed like she was trying to burn her way through the carpet. She gave a frustrated sigh, and sat down on the floor.

Rick scooted up next to her. "I'm sorry I missed the ceremony," he whispered.

"You don't have to keep apologizing!"

"Well…I'm still sorry. I feel terrible."

"Please, don't…don't feel bad." Lisa smiled and looked up at Rick. "Just seeing you this morning was enough to cheer me up."

Rick smiled back. "I'm proud of you."

"You've said that too."

They sat together at the bedside. The sun began to rise in Lisa's bedroom window, hiding between the tall New Macross buildings. It was beautiful anyway.

"I guess you're my commanding officer again," smiled Rick.

"For now," said Lisa.

"You're going to take advantage of that, aren't you?"

She grinned a little. "Mmm…I may."

"Well, how about one day where _I'm _in charge? And we'll spend the whole day celebrating. I'll rent us a fancy car, drive to the beach and we can spend the whole day there."

Lisa smiled, but shook her head. "Rick…I'm tired. I'm sorry. I just wouldn't have a good time…"

He nodded, and wrapped his arm around her. "Can I stay with you, then?"

"You'd spend your whole day off…being boring with me?"

"Absolutely," said Rick, matter-of-factly. "Permission to be boring, ma'am!"

Lisa reached up and kissed his cheek. "Granted," she whispered.

* * *

The protoculture matrix cast its gentle blue light on the walls of its storage hangar. Battle tanks were parked dormant beside it. Armed soldiers were everywhere – some were posted in the balcony catwalks, some stood in wait by the entrances. Groups of them made their rounds inside the structure.

Some of them were human with military-grade body armor. Others were Zentraedi, wearing old alien battle suits. But they all wore the mark of the Freedom Cross.

_They are brothers in arms…the men, and the monsters._

Lynn Kyle stood at the base of the giant matrix, bathed in blue light. Miss Raine was at his side – she was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, like a little girl. She paid no attention to her expensive business suit. Her briefcase was by her side.

"And they're growing in numbers every day," said Kyle. "They'll become a great army, someday."

Miss Raine looked up at Kyle with innocent eyes.

He nodded down to her. "I will lead them. I don't want to…but I'll have to. I couldn't trust anyone else with this kind of power."

He touched the glass with his hand, watching the energy flowing and coursing within the matrix.

"Look at it," he said. "It's the most valuable resource in the universe. It sustains life…it powers entire cities with its energy…and it renews itself."

Miss Raine's eyes were wide as she stared at the matrix's glow.

"I'm going to use this thing to make the world _right," _said Kyle. "I'll heal the damages of war…rebuild the cities…provide for the people…and make us _powerful _again."

Miss Raine looked down at her briefcase. She gently touched it with her hand, and a look of worry crossed her face.


	6. A Spy We Can Handle

* * *

Act 2 -

* * *

_CHAPTER 6_

An anchor woman sat confidently behind her desk and spoke at the camera. News footage displayed behind her as she reported the day's top stories.

_Today's top story comes from the New Macross Warehouse District, which was once an important source of industrial work for the people of Old Macross. In recent years it has fallen into disrepair, and a reported source of much criminal activity._

_Earlier this week, RDF forces invaded the Warehouse District and uncovered what appeared to be a Zentraedi slave-trading ring. RDF soldiers rescued dozens of young female Zentraedi from a prison, and the Zentraedi were sent to local hospitals for rehabilitation._

_Though many consider this a victory for the RDF, it has also sparked controversy. Many critics are claiming that the RDF is losing discipline. Forces are not very prevalent in the Warehouse District, and some people claim that the RDF should have discovered the slave-trading ring sooner. Lynn Kyle, the leader of the non-profit group Freedom Cross, is calling a public meeting tomorrow to address what he calls "more proof of the RDF's corruption."_

_Still, the popularity rating for the RDF is expected to rise. Admiral Reave is also expected to speak tomorrow, to assure us that today's incident did not put the citizens of New Macross in any danger..._

* * *

The lights from the doctor's examining room burned Lynn Kyle's eyes. He groaned and climbed off the table. "I'm done," he said.

Ayanami Raine was slipping on a lab coat. She ran her hands through her dark red hair, and let it rest on her shoulders. Even so early in the morning, she was a strikingly beautiful presence. As always, she was silent.

"Don't bother asking what I'm doing," said Kyle. "I'm getting out of _here._"

She frowned and looked back at the examining table.

"I'm not in the mood for this." Kyle stepped into the hallway and waved behind him. "I'm skipping my exam. Goodbye, Miss Raine."

Miss Raine sighed in frustration. She reached to the wall next to her, and pressed a button on the computer console. The examining room door locked shut.

"Thank you for your concern," he said, "but it's very early in the morning and I'm exhausted. I would like to get some rest."

Miss Raine turned and looked Kyle in the eyes. She sighed angrily and unlocked the door.

Kyle turned to leave the examining room, but a loud _crash _made him stop in his tracks. From the ceiling above him, a metal pipe broke loose and swung down. Miss Raine gasped and jumped away. The pipe sprayed a thick cloud of steam into the room.

"Don't touch it!" said Kyle. "It'll burn you." He stepped around the pipe and took her by the hand.

But she would not move; she had stopped cold in her tracks with her eyes on the ceiling.

Kyle looked up, and gasped in shock.

The steam was condensing around every cold surface. And in between two metal rafters, the water droplets were clinging to the shape of a human being. They ran across a giant, invisible body that faced them from above.

The being fell from the ceiling, and landed with its feet on the examining table. The metal smashed and dented. And when the invisible man stood, he was at least six inches taller than Kyle. The water dripped over his surface, phasing his body in and out of view.

He looked down at them, and spoke with a voice that was distorted and mechanical.

_Do not interfere._

He stepped into the hall, and the cold air dissipated his form.

* * *

Lynn Kyle ran through the halls, followed by a squad of foot soldiers. He was still wearing the wrinkled business suit. A cell phone was at his ear.

"Where is the intruder now?"

_We're trying to locate him, sir. He's wearing some kind of cloaking device._

"What?!"

_We can't see him, sir. He...turns invisible._

Kyle sighed. "We'll have to track him with the heat sensors. He's probably heading for one of the storage areas. I'm en route to the control room now, I'll meet you there."

_That's not necessary, sir. We're professionals. This guy got the drop on us...but he's not leaving alive._

* * *

Kyle struggled with his phone as he sprinted down the busy hallway, pulling Miss Raine by the hand. Every radio channel was being used. Military commanders were giving orders over the airwaves and relaying their groups' positions. Every minute or two, a voice from the control room would tell everyone the target's newest position.

Armored soldiers pushed Kyle aside as they ran past him, scanning the area with heat-sensing visors.

He stopped to catch his breath. "Stay calm," he panted. "I'll take you somewhere safe and call for help. Can you open a new communication channel for me?"

She wiped some sweat from her forehead, and nodded.

"Perfect. Let's give it a try."

They found the entrance, and Raine unlocked the door. The storage room was a giant warehouse filled with three-story drums of jet fuel. Grated catwalks wrapped around the inside walls. At the far end, a small control room contained a few computers.

Kyle looked around each corner as he passed the drums of fuel. _Damn it, _he thought, _not now._

Raine breathed tensely. Her beautiful eyes were shaking as she looked to him.

"Whatever it is, it's got to be from the RDF," Kyle said. "It's been spying on us."

She gasped.

"Don't worry...if it found our protoculture, it would have left by now."

They locked themselves inside the control room. Miss Raine began working right away, typing a string of commands into the computer. Kyle looked in the desk drawers for a weapon, but nothing turned up.

Raine tugged at her lab coat nervously.

Across the warehouse, the door Miss Raine had unlocked was opening again. Freedom Cross soldiers poured inside and began forming small groups. At least six of the soldiers were using robotic full-body armor and carrying heavy weapons.

"I think it worked!" Kyle smiled. "They're here!" He waved to the troops, which were still moving into the storage area.

Raine looked back at her screen. It hadn't even booted up.

Kyle stopped waving. "This isn't right..."

* * *

_Alpha team, cover the south-east. Beta team, stay with Gamma and take the West._

_Mobile Arms, patrol the area and wait for orders._

_Watch your fire around those drums or it'll get nice an' toasty in here..._

_Let's use those heat sensors, people!_

Directed by their commanders, the soldiers activated their heat visors and patrolled the warehouse. The bulky Mobile Arms troopers pounded slowly across the space. They carried powerful cannons, almost as big as their bodies, without effort. Their footsteps created thunderous echoes, and their visor-clad helmets moved slowly back and forth as they scanned the area.

One of the Mobile Arms troopers suddenly raised his weapon. He only fired once, but the barrel flash was almost five meters long. And it sounded like the blast from a tank's gun.

_That's a hit. Intruder is down._

The men gathered behind him and watched. In the middle of a bare spot on the floor, a pool of blue liquid was forming on the concrete.

_Is he there? I can't see him._

_Increase thermal intensity to eight-hundred percent. He's there._

_Jesus, it's like he bleeds ice cubes!_

_Okay, I see him now...wait! Motion!_

The Mobile Arms soldier held out his arm and kept the other troops back. He stomped toward the puddle on the ground and lifted his weapon again. It sprayed a wall of searing-hot flame. The floor burned intensely, and a still human figure began to appear within the blaze.

_Hold it! You'll ignite the fuel!_

_Relax, it's shielded. Go on, hit him a few more times._

The figure began to move inside the fire. It staggered and swayed, and then rose to its full height. It was taller than the Mobile Arms, and almost as wide. But this ancient warrior had no battle armor.

He slowly stepped out of the flames. The fire enveloping his body immediately fizzled out. The Mobile Arms soldiers fired another wave of napalm fire, but this time, the intruder would not burn.

His body was wrapped in a black jumpsuit. Hoses and cables ran across his chest and around his back. His head was a shining robotic helmet, with a blank slate of metal instead of a face. A hole was torn in his jumpsuit's side where the cannon shell had struck him. But a sheet of protective metal was underneath it.

A pair of skeletal, mechanized hands slowly opened and closed at his sides.

The Freedom Cross surrounded him, but he stood still. A commanding officer pointed at a man on each side of the circle.

"Armor piercing rounds! Now!"

The men fired their assault rifles. The intruder's jumpsuit split and shredded as the bullets tore into it. And the ancient warrior reacted immediately. He stretched out his arms and the robotic hands split into sections. Cables whipped forth, attached to the attackers' chest plates, and sent out shockwaves that threw them ten meters away.

The cables grabbed the assault rifles before they could hit the ground. The faceless warrior's hands reformed and gripped the guns. He flicked his wrists, and both weapons switched to full-automatic. He trained the sights on the commanding officer; armor-piercing bullets tore the man apart.

* * *

Miss Raine gasped and cried, as she looked out the glass. Kyle grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ground. They lay silently on the concrete floor. Gunfire popped in the air just beyond the windows.

Raine whimpered as she stared at the ground.

He wrapped his thin arm over her back. "Relax," he whispered. "We'll be fine."

She choked back her tears and tried calm down.

He nodded quickly. "I know, I know. Just keep quiet and do what I say. We'll make it out all right."

* * *

The ancient warrior -- the one who found Lynn Kyle's secret base -- was Eo Prime.

He slid carefully between the fuel containers. His arms were outstretched at his sides, blasting the advancing soldiers as they fought to surround him. He fired his guns without looking at the targets. The black steel mask he wore was always facing forward.

Gunshots flew wildly around the barrels of fuel. soldiers' helmets and chest plates ripped to pieces. The mercenaries of the Freedom Cross tripped over their mutilated squad mates as they ran for cover.

It was only moments before the commanders ordered them to fall back. Eo Prime slid under cover behind the barrels. His black suit of armor disappeared into the shadows.

_Hold your fire! Nobody hit that fuel!_

The smoke began to clear. Shell casings were still rolling across the ground. Shredded bodies lay amid pools of fresh blood.

A Mobile Arms trooper raised his arm. _There!_

A shadow rose and fell at the edge of a fuel barrel. A group of soldiers kicked over a table and dropped behind it. They rested their rifles on the table's edge and shot into the darkness. The recoil made their bodies shake.

A muzzle flash lit up from another fuel barrel, several meters away. The table shredded to pieces; the soldiers screamed and fell.

Two Mobile Arms troopers aimed their cannons and fired. The blasts left a massive crater in the floor. But Eo Prime was gone again. The assault rifles lay where he once stood.

_He's unarmed. Let's go._

Only a handful of standard soldiers were left alive. The Mobile Arms ordered them to pull out, and slowly approached the steel cylinders, as their mechanical legs stepped over the bodies.

One of them held a flamethrower, and the other a mini-cannon with rotating barrels. They activated a set of flashlights on their helmets and scanned over the barrels.

_I'll take point, _said the man with the mini-gun. _Hose him down as soon as I draw him out._

They split up, and the flame trooper stayed behind. He surveyed the ruined warehouse through his visor, and nervously shifted his weapon from hand to hand.

Motion came from the control center at the far end. Miss Raine and Lynn Kyle were running across the blood-soaked floor. They stopped when they saw the trooper.

_Stop! Find cover! It's not safe yet --_

A spinning knifeblade jabbed into the flamethrower's napalm tube. The chemicals sprayed into the flame on the weapon's barrel. A white-hot explosion shattered the soldier's body.

The second trooper backed away from the shadows with his mini-gun blazing. The sound of the gun was relentless and its flash was almost blinding. Empty casings spat from the chambers by the hundreds.

The monstrous Eo Prime was crouched atop one of the fuel barrels. He leapt high over the soldier's head and reached out his hand. A cable whipped forth and wrapped around the barrels of the gun. Eo Prime tugged back on the cable. The mini-gun jerked upward and landed on the soldier's chest.

Metal shards blasted through his shoulders, and his helmet burst like glass.

Eo Prime landed on his feet. His faceless mask watched Miss Raine and Lynn Kyle, frozen in their place. Behind Eo Prime, the cable unwrapped from the gun barrels, and slowly drew back into his arm.

Miss Raine gripped a pistol in her trembling hands. She sobbed and sniffed as she held the gun at the attacker.

"Raine _wait!" _cried Kyle. "Don't!"

The skeletal fingers of Eo Prime twitched with anticipation. His suit was dented and filled with holes, but he did not bleed.

Kyle tried to keep from shaking. "Raine..._don't...shoot him..._"

Miss Raine could barely hold the gun still.

"He told us not to interfere. Just put it down...he won't attack unless we shoot first."

Raine blinked, as tears ran down her cheeks.

Eo Prime's hands were widening and forming sharp claws. From his palms, serrated blades were sliding forth.

She pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire; nothing was in the chamber. Kyle grabbed it from her hands and threw it across the warehouse. He struggled to hold her against him as she screamed, and looked straight into the Zentraedi warrior's stare.

The faceless metal mask was cracked open. Whatever lay beneath it was dripping a neon blue liquid onto the ground.

Eo Prime raised his powerful arm. He pointed the blade at Lynn Kyle's chest. Without moving his arm, the blade twisted violently, as a warning. The Zentraedi crouched down, bounded into the air, and disappeared.

* * *

Breetai watched as the technicians worked on Eo Prime. A full-time crew and a specially-designed sleep chamber were committed to repairing and maintaining the soldier. But ironically, most of the crew were only researchers, and Eo's cyborg body seemed to repair itself better than the RDF could.

This time was no exception. Eo had entered the containment chamber only a few minutes ago. But his vital signs had stabilized on their own. The men and women were carefully removing his shredded battle armor, calling out their progress as they worked. Breetai stood beside the examining table and watched.

_His chest plate disconnects at the shoulders, under his arms, and at his waist. Make sure they're all unlocked before you pull it off._

_Okay, I've got his thigh plates off._

_Davis, can you get a saw with a number-five blade? The metal on his left arm fused together at the elbow._

A woman reached at Eo's face, to pull off his mask. But she gasped, as a shining skeletal hand raised up and grabbed her wrist.

"Uh...sir..." she said. "I have to remove your helmet now."

Breetai looked down at the woman. "Leave it," he said sternly. "Eo Prime is still healing."

"Oh! Yes sir."

Eo released his hand and lay it back on the table. Breetai looked down at the faceless mask. Within the cracked steel, he saw the glistening of a bright-blue liquid.

"Are you in pain, my friend?" he asked.

The skeleton-fingers grated against the cold table.

"We will provide whatever services we can," Breetai said. "Thank you for everything you have done today."

Eo's helmet rose and fell in a slow nod.

Behind his body, a video screen showed the spy photographs that he had taken -- a heavily-guarded outpost, a batallion of mercenary soldiers, and at least three squadrons of old Veritech fighters. All of these, within the confines of a Freedom Cross building. And the most shocking photos of all revealed that Lynn Kyle was hiding a matrix -- a device used to hold protoculture.

Breetai looked over the pale flesh of the Zentraedi soldier. It was scratched and burned, but the wounds were healing before his eyes.

"Your abilities are remarkable," said Breetai. "You are a fine warrior. The RDF takes pride in you."

The bony hands closed into fists. Eo spoke, with a hoarse, choked voice.

_I needed a weapon._

"I know," replied Breetai. "It was not my idea to send you ill-prepared. But we do not fully understand this new _Ghost_ technology. It could only hide your body from view, nothing else. We were hoping you could escape without detection."

"I blame only myself," said Eo.

One of the technicians flipped on a miniature saw, and buzzed at Eo's arm plates. Sparks flew, but the metal would not cut.

"I think we're gonna need a bigger saw!" he called to his co-workers.

Eo turned to the man. _I will remove it_, he called out. His voice was regaining its trademark power.

"Your mission was successful," said Breetai as the technician ran off. "Your discovery has shocked the Global Defense."

_I must return and capture that matrix_, said Eo.

"Do not fear, warrior. You will. But next time, we will send you prepared."

Eo Prime sat up on the table. His mechanical hands gripped the mask and pulled it off. Blue liquid dripped from inside as he set it down. His face was smooth and angular, and his eyes were dark and determined. Half of his chin was discolored with bruises, and a giant scar ran from his ear to the edge of his lip. But as Breetai watched, the bruises disappeared and the scar faded into nothing.

They both glanced down at the mask. A bullet was rolling around inside it.

"I anticipate the victory," said Eo Prime.

* * *

_a/n:_

_First of all, thank you very much for reading this story and commenting. Some of you are reading it for the second time! I'm having fun telling this story...again, I guess.  
_

_This chapter was difficult to re-write from the original version. The action scenes were edited and cleaned up, and some unneeded content was removed. But the biggest change here was in the characters of Lynn Kyle and Ayanami Raine._

_In the original, it was a Freedom Cross fighter pilot who discovered the spy Eo Prime. Since many of the extra characters are no longer appearing (or have lesser roles), it's now Lynn Kyle who helps Miss Raine escape from Eo Prime._

_Miss Raine's "new" character has been really interesting for me. She's become one of the biggest mysteries in _Ghost Eagles --_ mostly because, up to this point, she hasn't spoken a word. For this chapter I decided to leave most of Raine's actions the same as before -- but once again, she never speaks. It surprised me to see how much more powerful Raine became, simply by removing her dialogue._


	7. Brothers From a Distant Star

_CHAPTER 7  
_

The chrome finish of the kitchen sink was smattered with blood. Michael Joons watched it drip from his arm and slowly pool in the drain. His Zentraedi battle knife lay on the counter. It was sharp enough to cut through bone, but Joons had been careful, and the cut had been painless.

He watched his arm with a pounding heart. He needed to see this for himself.

His blood stopped dripping. It slowly changed color, until it was a bright silver coating over his wound. The blood flattened on his arm, and it spread into a honey-comb pattern.His muscles tightened to pull the incision closed. Only seconds passed before the blood liquefied again, and seeped into the pores of his flesh. His wound was healed without a scar.

Joons breathed uneasily. He looked down at the sink; his blood was still pooled around the drain, and still red. But when he dipped his fingers into it, the blood came to life. It turned silver and formed the same honey-combs, and they slid onto his hand methodically, like pieces of a puzzle. The separations disappeared; his hand was wrapped in a shining silver glove.

He tapped it against the counter. It was strong as steel, but he manipulated it like flesh. With his own fingers, he could pull on the glove as though it were his own skin. He ran the glove through his hair, and his sense of touch was just as strong. When he touched both hands to his face, he could not feel a difference between them.

But when he touched the countertop or the sink, or anything but his own body, he felt nothing.

With his other hand, he picked up the battle knife. He flicked his wrist, and lightly tapped the blade on the faucet. It cut the faucet in half. And he took a deep breath, and gently did the same to his protected hand. Sparks flew off the blade. His hand was without a scratch.

From the shining surface of his hand, he could see every feature of his face. His dark brown hair, in a mess from days without sleep. His thin, bloodshot eyes, and the sweat that ran down his face.

He slowly shut his eyes and tried to ease his nerves. And he felt the shield breaking up, and drawing into his flesh. When he opened his eyes, his hand was just as normal.

Joons stood by the counter for a long time, rubbing his hand. He felt suddenly cold.

He picked up his phone and pressed the speed dial. Several rings later, he got an answering machine message that he could recite by heart.

_Hello! You've reached Minmei...for now, anyway! I'll be doing my monthly number-change soon. But don't worry! If you're on my list, I'll call you and give you the new one! Oh, and please leave a message!_

She gave an infectious giggle, and a shrill beep blasted Joons in the ear.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy. "Uh..._ahem..._um, hi Minmei. It's Joons...I mean _Michael. _Just calling to say hello...haven't seen you in a while. Call me tonight if you have a chance..."

He caught himself before _please. _With a quick goodbye, he hung up the phone. He found a spot on the floor in front of the dormant television. And he sat and stared at the floor, hoping that he might hear Minmei's voice again that night.

* * *

_The stars were shining  
On the battlefront  
But nobody bothered to look  
To the sky_

_A star was shining  
Within my heart  
But nobody bothered to look  
In my eyes_

_- Excerpt from "A Star Was Shining" by Lynn Minmei_

* * *

The RDF had been watching the Warehouse District for a long time. They knew about the Zentraedi mistreatment was beginning to emerge, and the gangs that patrolled the blocks every night. If Admiral Reave had gotten his way, this part of town would be under constant watch. But he couldn't convince Mayor Saul to let his forces that far into New Macross. For the time being, the Warehouse District was a terrible place to live.

And it was noplace for a frail, blue-haired girl to be wandering the streets.

Her slippers were soaking wet, and her feet ached. Her ragged dress was too thin to keep her warm. It had always been too big on her, and as she staggered through the dark alleys, she held it against her breast with her hand.

_I should not have run..._ she thought. _I was meant...to stay inside..._

She reached the end of the alley, and leaned against a rusted light pole. The night wind blew viciously at her. She quivered and shut her eyes, but never cried.

A beat-up car drove slowly towards her. Its stereo system pounded out a terrible noise, and words that she could barely understand. The vibrations shook her body. She screamed and ran back into the dark alley.

Her shaking legs ran as fast as she could manage. But she felt something move in front of her, and before she could stop, she had tripped. Her eyes closed tightly as she crashed against the pavement.

A slavering jaw snapped closed around her arm. She gasped and struggled to crawl away. A wild dog was clawing and biting at her. Its eyes glowed madly as they peered down on her.

She could barely keep it away from her face. Whenever she pushed, the dog would bite her harder. It growled and barked and refused to back down. Its muzzle was dripping with her blood. She did the only thing she could think of, and begged the animal for mercy. But her pleas only grew louder as the dog attacked harder.

But suddenly the dog stopped. It yelped in pain and bolted away from her. The blood that once soaked its fur was shining brightly, and slowly losing its color.

She slid away and fell on her face. She could barely move from the pain. Like a thousand stabs of the knife that still lingered in her dreams.

She was too afraid to lay where she was, so she labored to bring herself to her feet. The wounds didn't seem as bad when she looked at them; only cuts and scratches. But they still hurt immensely.

The dog was laying in the street not far away. It was curled up tightly, and dead, with its tongue hanging loosely from its muzzle. The once-fierce eyes had lost their shine.

The blue-haired girl drew her hand over her mouth. She knelt beside the dog and tried to wake it up.

_Oh...he must have been sick..._

She sat in the alley beside the dead animal, gently stroking its fur. "I am sorry," she whispered. "You poor thing..."

* * *

_The test results, at first, were disappointing. I will not deny it; I was expecting an easy solution. But now I can tell you, with total certainty, that the Human Race will not be afforded such a luxury._

_We conducted brain scans, neural analyses, and bio-chemical research with the best scientists and equipment on the planet. The test subjects were even administered psychological tests. And every result was the same. Based on the exhaustive research of myself and my research group, we have found no major structural difference between Human and Zentraedi beings. Thus, we must not pass off this "Malcontent Syndrome" as a genetic disability._

_And this is where my colleagues, esteemed as they are, have erred. The Zentraedi are "malcontent" not because of what they are, but who they are forced to become. Their lives were completely dedicated to war; they could not achieve honor or pleasure without performing well in combat. And now they are citizens of an alien race, one that stands against the only thing they understand. Perhaps the true answer is the simplest after all._

_The bull is lost in a china shop. Must we demand that it stock the shelves?_

_- Excerpt from "Brothers From a Distant Star" by Dr. Emil Lang._

* * *

Rick ran his gloved hand along the wing of the Skull One fighter. He looked up at the giant wing as he slowly walked, and stopped under the RDF insignia that was almost as big as he was.

"I needed one last ride," he smiled painfully. "Thanks, Max."

His best friend hadn't changed since they'd flown together in the days of the SDF-1. Max Sterling was still a thin young man, with a meek smile and a pair of round glasses. He still dyed his hair blue, and Rick had never asked why. But it matched his determined blue eyes. Max never looked much like a pilot, but he was. In Rick's eyes, he was the best pilot in the sky, and the only one who could handle the responsibility that he had just gained.

Max waited for him in the hangar. His blue Vermillion fighter was dormant far behind him, and he was still in his flight suit.

"Sure," he smiled back, just as pained. "Feels like we still have it."

"Yeah...we do."

Rick stepped out from the shadows of the wing. He poked his head into the fighter's engine intake, and thought of all the times the engines had propelled him across the sky.

Max placed his hand on Rick's shoulder. "...You're sure about this," he said. "You can still change your mind."

"Nah, I don't have a choice," said Rick. "Orders are orders. I've been..._reassigned. _You've read about it. I'm leaving Skull Squadron. They've got a new assignment for Joons and I."

"Rick...the commander-in-chief of the RDF thinks of you as his brother!"

Rick laughed uneasily. "Breetai?"

"Yeah! He can get someone else to run those new missions. You and Joons can stay where you are."

"I...don't think so," Rick sighed. He leaned against the giant engine, with his head resting on the steel. "I've been thinking about this for a while. Now is a good time. And you're not making it any easier on me!"

Max chuckled and shook his head. "All right, all right." He gave the distant Rick's shoulder a shake, and leaned against the engine beside him. "Where are they going to take you?"

"I dunno," said Rick. "I don't think I'm going far. Maybe to Monument...that's where the bigger uprisings are." He shook his head, downcast. "I guess I'm a 'Ghost Eagle' now."

"What's that?"

"Not sure. Sounds like a dead bird to me."

They laughed together, but not for long. As Rick loosened the collar of his flight suit, he stared up at the sharp tail fins of his Veritech fighter. The white skull and crossbones stared back at him, perhaps for the last time.

* * *

The TC-1 transport rumbled over the dust, barren ground. It had left the boundaries of New Macross a long time ago for a trek into the wastelands beyond.

A convoy of Urban Assault Vehicles rode alongside. Two Veritechs cruised over the sand in Guardian mode, just behind. Their gun pods were armed and ready; their robotic heads swiveled around to check the area.

Rick Hunter sat in the back of the armored TC-1. He looked out the small window in the side, watching the desert as he bounced around from the bumpy ride. Michael Joons was seated beside him.

Two RDF soldiers sat across from him. They told him to stay away from the window. Rick nodded, and slid a bulletproof plate over the glass.

Rick turned to Joons. "Sorry to drag you along on a Saturday night," he said.

Joons shrugged tiredly and looked at the floor.

The TC-1 driver shouted back to them. _Get your gear, everyone! We're arriving in five minutes._

"Where are we going?" Joons called up.

_The graveyard! _said the driver.

Rick and Joons exchanged a quizzical look.

* * *

They arrived right on schedule – to a place the RDF had kept a complete secret. It was an old, dilapidated military bunker, surrounded by an empty, endless desert. It had somehow survived the Zentraedi war.

It was surrounded by three squadrons of Veritech Valkyries – blue and black fighters of the Wolf Pack. They were elites, stationed aboard the _G.S.S. Ultimatum _in the planet's obit. Their presence here was foreboding.

The Wolf Pack Valkyries stomped across the ground in Battloid mode, standing like massive soldiers in the desert. The sun began to set as Rick and Joons walked towards the bunker, between the legs of the mighty giants who stood guard.

They were shocked to see a familiar face – none other than Dr. Emil Lang.

"Welcome, gentlemen!" he said, in his deep, accented voice. "Welcome to my home away from home. This is the RDF graveyard."

Joons eyed Doctor Lang sternly as they entered the bunker. The doors sealed tightly behind them, locking the soldiers and the Wolf Pack Veritechs outside.

Within the structure was a carefully-organized system of shelves and storage containers. Fork lifts drove through the alleys, moving crates around and replacing them somewhere new. Scientists were everywhere – making notes, taking pictures. And there were armored soldiers guarding each of the halls.

Doctor Lang sped up his pace; the pilots followed behind.

"All the things you see," he said, "all these pieces and parts…_all _of them were salvaged from the SDF-1. We began this project two years ago. It continues today. Teams of researchers are venturing into the hull of the SDF-1 and harvesting its technology so we can learn more about it."

Rick glanced at a giant cannon barrel on a shelf. "I don't know how I feel about this," he said. "That thing's more than just a machine…it's almost _sacred _to us."

Doctor Lang nodded. He replied with words that surprised even Lieutenant Joons.

"It _is _a sacred place, my friends. It's a burial ground. Many men and women perished inside…and it's disturbing to send people in for research. But at this point…we have no choice."

* * *

The steel gates of a freight elevator swung open. Doctor Lang led the pilots into a dark sub-level of the bunker. They were stopped three times by guards to check identification. All of the guards recognized Rick Hunter, but they still demanded his ID card – at gunpoint.

The lights flashed on. The sub-level was completely empty – a massive cave made of steel and concrete. It was enough space to hold a small battleship. But there was nothing inside.

"What's this all about?" asked Joons.

Doctor Lang stepped into the empty space. "Gentlemen," he called out. "What you're about to see is of the _utmost _secrecy."

With the sound of a quiet, whispering hum, Eo Prime appeared in the room beside the doctor. He was clad in an armored black pilot's suit, like nothing Rick or Joons had ever seen.

"We found something on the SDF-1," said Lang with a smile. "Something _amazing."_

The whispering sound grew louder. And the silhouettes of three Veritech fighters slowly came into view. They appeared out of nothing – three VF-1X fighters, just like Eo Prime's.

They were the Ghost Eagles.

They were thicker, lower-slung versions of theValkyrie, with angular-shaped fuselage and much bigger tail fins. Their canopies were made of steel, not glass. They were painted in a deep black, with no number markings on the wings. The only decals present were the Ghost Eagle emblem -- the raptor's skull -- on the tails.

Doctor Emil Lang presented the fighters with pride.

"These are the most advanced fighting mecha _on the planet_. They can out-maneuver any Veritech in _any _mode. They have a higher top speed. They carry specially-modified gun pods with new energy-based weapons. They utilize a brand new _Eyes Anywhere Canopy_ that leaves the pilot's view completely unobstructed."

Eo Prime nodded gravely.

"And best of all," said Doctor Lang. "Your enemies will _never _see you coming."

* * *

The sun had nearly fallen into the desert for the night. Dusk was casting long shadows from the sand dunes. Soon, the RDF graveyard would be hidden by darkness.

Rick, Joons, and Eo Prime walked together outside the bunker. The Wolf Pack Guardians pounded around behind them. Soon they would take off for their home in space, the _G.S.S. Ultimatum._

"So…these fighters were _onboard _the SDF-1?" asked Rick. "The whole time?"

Eo Prime nodded. "As was I."

"_You _were onboard?"

"In a state of hibernation sleep, yes."

"What were you doing on the SDF-1?"

"I was part of the ship's mission. Its _original _mission…before it crashed. The ship was Zor's best expeditionary vessel. And I was the crew's protection, in case of danger."

"So the VF-1X always belonged to you," said Joons.

Eo nodded. "The other two craft belonged to my squadron. The RDF has modified them to look like your _Veritechs_…but their effectiveness is the same, if not better."

Rick looked up at the darkening sky. "We could've used you…during the war."

"I have thought of this, many times. But then, if I _had _been active…perhaps I would have sided with Breetai and Exedore."

"Like me," said Joons quietly.

"It was a terrible thing," said Eo Prime. "The Zentraedi were so eager to fight. But we were misled. Even our leaders…like the great Breetai…were fighting for the wrong reasons."

They reached a half-buried Zentraedi battle pod, long since abandoned. Rick leaned against its rusty hull. He looked to Eo Prime, the mechanized Zentraedi warrior.

"Why do you want me to lead this squadron?" he asked.

Eo Prime looked down at Rick and Joons. To their surprise, his cold face gave them what appeared to be a smile.

"You outrank me," he said. "You two are Lieutenant and Commander. I am nothing."

Rick shook his head. "But…what were you _before?"_

"It does not matter anymore. Now, we are brothers."


	8. Harvest Festival

_CHAPTER 8 _

The people of New Macross were celebrating the city's annual Harvest Festival. Fairgrounds were set up along the outskirts of the city. Both children and adults lined up for the carnival rides, and tested their luck at the midway games. The air was sweet with powdered sugar and cotton candy. In some of the scattered tents, local bands were playing their renditions of hit songs.

Joons had always wondered about the Harvest Festival. New Macross wasn't any kind of _farming_ city, and as far as he knew, the _old_ Macross City hadn't really harvested anything either. He felt a little ridiculous being at the event with the excited crowd. But anything to keep their spirits up, he thought, was better than nothing.

Plus, he was finally able to spend some time with Minmei.

She was as beautiful as ever, braving the cold weather in a skimpy, formal-looking dress. She seemed a bit overdressed for a carnival, especially compared to his worn-out RDF pilot's jacket. But she _was _Minmei; he should have known better.

And for all the maturity that her looks conveyed, her attitude was just the opposite. She danced from one thing to another like an excited child, giggling as Joons tried to keep up with her.

"C'mon, Mike!" she cried, looking over her shoulder. "What're you waiting for?"

Joons tried to pick up his pace. "That ride got me dizzy," he moaned, holding his head. "Even pilots don't have to go through that!"

She danced back to him, and took his hand. "But that's the fun of it! You're supposed to get a little dizzy!"

"A _little?_" he smiled.

She pouted playfully. "Oh, fine. We'll sit down for a minute."

They found an empty park bench and sat down. Joons stretched out his arms. He took a deep breath.

"Whew! Sorry, Minmei."

"Oh, that's all right," she sighed, and rested her head against his shoulder. It made him nervous. "I'm getting a little tired myself."

Joons laughed. "You sure don't look it."

They watched quietly as some people passed by. No one seemed to recognize Minmei. Maybe everyone was too preoccupied to pay attention. But Joons was more than a little uneasy seeing her in such a big crowd. There was something about Lynn Minmei that people found absolutely irresistible. He was worried something would happen to her.

Minmei whimpered a tiny yawn. "Hey Mike...I need your opinion."

"Uh...all right..."

"Look at my legs, will you?"

He straightened a little in his seat. "Wait...what?" he asked, quite a bit more nervous than before.

She giggled, and pointed below the hem of her skirt. "Tell me if you see anything."

Joons shook his head and took another deep breath. "All right," he laughed uneasily, and turned his eyes to Minmei's slender legs.

He wasn't sure how long he should look, or even if he should look in the first place. He didn't want to look for too long, but she _told_ him to look. Was she testing him? Why would she do that? Was he beginning to stare?

Minmei grew closer as she lay against his shoulder. "See anything?"

"Your legs?" he said shyly.

She breathed a laugh. "No scars, then?"

"Scars?" he wondered. _Scars...scars..._ "Oh, scars! Oh, of course not!"

How could he forget. Minmei had been worried about scarring ever since she'd left the hospital. The doctors had assured her that her wounds were only minor, but she was still always looking, just in case.

The incident nearly a year ago, when the Malcontent attacked the RDF base, still troubled her deeply.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I thought I saw one on my thigh this morning. I wore a longer skirt to cover it up."

He blinked stoically.

"Well...I don't see a thing," he smiled, looking to her eyes. "If you've got any scars, nobody will ever notice."

She smiled back. "Thanks Mike. You're special, you know that?"

"Eh, so I've heard," he chuckled. "Just do _me _a favor, all right?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"Don't go asking random people to look at your legs."

She shoved him off the park bench as she laughed. "Oh, you're silly!"

Joons' smile was crushed by the sound of a gunshot. He was instantly on his feet, running to protect Minmei. But none of the people seemed alarmed, and even Minmei didn't care.

"Relax!" she giggled. "It's just the shooting range over there!"

"The _shooting range?_" he exclaimed.

"Sure, you shoot stuff for prizes!" she replied, and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Haven't you ever been to a carnival before?"

"Well...no."

Minmei was stunned. "I don't believe it! We should have done _twice _as much today! C'mon, you have to play the shooting range, it's lots of fun!"

She led him to a long booth, where a row of low-powered rifles were sitting on a counter. At the far end of the shooting range, glass plates were set against the wall. Both children and adults were firing away, but nobody could hit the plates. A bored police officer stood by and watched. He noticed the pilot's jacket, and saluted as Joons approached.

One of the kids gave up. "Quick!" said Minmei, even though no one else was in line. "You can use that one!"

She pushed him up to the counter. "Um, I'd like to play, I guess," he said.

The person running the game, a skinny man with a long beard, picked up the rifle. "You betcha, my boy!" he grinned as he loaded the gun. "Gonna win this beautiful young lady a prize?"

Minmei blushed at the old man's remark.

"That's the idea, right?" Joons asked. "Hit a plate and I get a prize?"

"Any plate wins a prize! You get six shots for five bucks! Whaddaya say?"

He grudgingly paid the man a five dollar bill. With careful aim, he shot three rounds at a plate, but none of them hit. He tried a different plate, then tried adjusting his grip. But before he knew it, the gun was empty and he had missed every shot.

Minmei covered her mouth, embarrassed. The police officer chuckled as Joons looked over the rifle.

"Oh, tough luck there, sport!" said the old man. "Guess that thing's got too much of a kick for 'ya! Wanna try the kiddie rifle?"

"The gun sight is bent!" cried Joons. "You're ripping me off!" He turned to the officer. "He's _ripping me off_!"

"Don't be a sore loser, my boy!" the old man smiled. "Maybe you're just warming up! And I see that girlfriend of yours eyeing that giant stuffed bear over there..."

"Nuh-uh!" Minmei frowned. She crossed her arms and leaned against Joons defiantly. "...I'll have you know that I was looking at the tiger."

Joons laughed and gave her a little shove. "Thanks for your support!" He stepped back up to the counter and put the rifle down. "All right, I'll have another try."

The man reached for the rifle, but Joons held it firmly to the table. "I'll use something with less kick," he grinned.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his military sidearm. It was an ARM-25 semi-automatic handgun, a large and stocky pistol that fired high-caliber rounds. Before the man could speak, Joons aimed it with one hand and squeezed the trigger. A deafening _boom _made every one jump, and a plate on the wall exploded.

The old man uncovered his ears. "Well...what do you know!" he said shakily. "We have a winner! Pick a prize, son!"

"Wait a minute, now!" smiled Joons. "I've got five shots left!"

"Oh...so you do."

Joons turned to a much-impressed Minmei. "I like this game!" he said.

* * *

There was plenty to do at the Harvest Festival, and there was certainly no lack of things to eat. All of the city's biggest restaurants were present at the fair, selling their most famous dishes at small food stands. The fair had its own section devoted to these competing stands. And for those who didn't want to pay a hefty price, there were smaller stands making carnival foods and treats.

"Mike's Chili Dogs" was particularly busy. They made only one concoction - a whopping chili dog - but it was enough to make them a favorite at the Festival every year. There was no menu; the hungry patrons just stepped up and ordered the chili dog. And three dollars later, they owned enough chili dog to feed them for a week.

But a frail little blue-haired girl stepped up to the counter, and didn't know the routine. She held a ragged blanket around her and waited silently.

The gruff-looking cashier peered down at her after some moments passed. "Can I help you?" he asked impatiently.

She nodded. "Are you the one called _Mike_?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Oh," she sighed. "Well...is...he here?"

"No, Mike doesn't even _come_ to these fairs. You know him or something?"

She shook her head. "No, no...I only wished to ask him something. Could you...tell him for me?"

He laughed. "Sure, kid. What's the message?"

The girl cleared her throat, and spoke bravely. "I would like a chili dog," she said with confidence.

The chefs in the back had begun to laugh. Some of the people behind her were whispering giggles to one another. She wondered what was so funny.

The cashier bent down over the counter. "Know what? I think I can get one for you."

She was ecstatic. "You _can?_ That is amazing! Thank you!"

"I'm just a wizard like that," he mused. "That'll be three bucks."

She was silent once again. The cashier looked down at her, and she stared back with her bright blue eyes.

"I would like it now, please," she said.

"Uh-huh, and I'd like you to _pay _for it."

She was shocked. "What...do you require of me?"

He leaned even closer. "_Three dollars._"

"I am sorry...I do not understand..."

The cashier rubbed his face wearily. "You give me three dollars, and I give you the chili dog. It's this little thing we call _fair trade_."

She gave him the blankest stare he'd ever seen.

"Listen!" he said. "Do you have three dollars?"

"Not that I know of," she replied meekly.

"Then _get out of line!_"

She ran from the chili dog stand, crying and confused. Some of the people laughed at her as she fled. Others called out to her, but she could not understand many of their words. She hid behind a tent, where she could still see the cashier serving the people in line. Every time someone stepped up, he gave them a chili dog.

She clenched her fists and shut her eyes. "I do not _understand..._"

If it were up to her, she would still be hiding in the alleys. But she had gone days without something to eat. The smell of food was driving her insane. She had walked all the way to the fairgrounds, and spent the whole day trying to figure out how to get something edible. So far, none of the stands had given her anything.

But she had found an old blanket near a dumpster, and after making sure it was abandoned, claimed it for herself. It didn't offer much warmth, but she felt better having it with her.

_They are all getting fed, _she thought, _and I am not! What am I doing wrong? I have tried everything!_

Her stomach growled terribly. _They know what I am. They can all tell. That is why they laugh and refuse me food...I do not deserve it..._

She felt completely desperate. The people would never give her something to eat. She wasn't even worth the time. When they passed by her, they would stop and stare or mutter something to one another. But they would offer nothing more than pitiful glances. No amount of begging would change their minds.

Trembling from cold and hunger, she began to panic. _There must be something here...something small that no one wants..._

Her eyes scanned over the fairgrounds. There was one stand that had very few customers. It was selling souvenirs at ridiculously high prices. A row of pink teddy bears hung from the roof of the stand. A disappointed boy was stomping away, with pink cotton candy in his hand.

_That child, _she thought. _He is eating one of those creatures! And he seems displeased with it...maybe they don't taste good. They certainly don't look very appetizing. Perhaps they are reserved for the poor...or for those who don't deserve any better..._

She could barely believe what she was doing. Her heart pounded as she ran for the stand, and pulled down a teddy bear before the cashier could stop her. But as she darted away, voices began raising against her. They cried out at once in anger and fear. She didn't understand their meanings, but when the shouts came, everyone at the fair ran away from her.

_Malcontent!_

She escaped in between the carnival rides and left the fair behind her. Sliding into the trench of a storm drain outlet, she hid there until the noises subsided. She lay in the muddy ground, petrified that someone was looking for her.

But her courage returned after a while. She sat up in the ditch and looked over her prize. It was soft and furry, and didn't seem very nourishing.

_Where are its bones? _she thought. _I have never seen such an animal. _

With a firm tug, she ripped off the bear's arm. The insides resembled the young boy's food. She took a healthy bite and tried to chew it up.

It was a struggle. The stuffing hung in her throat and made her gag. After a few tries, she spat out the fluff with rage.

"What cursed being _are_ you?!" she cried, and threw the bear across the ditch. "Not even fit...to feed the scum of this _earth_...you filthy _beast!_"

Tears filled her eyes as she lay down in the mud, and grew still once again.

* * *

Joons handed a big stuffed elephant to a young girl. "Here you go," he said cheerfully.

"I kinda wanted a teddy bear," she said bashfully.

Joons turned to the game operator and reached for his jacket. "Whaddaya say, pal?"

"No more," the old man shook his head. The shelves were almost empty of prizes. Joons had spent about thirty dollars, but it had been worth it.

"Sorry," he told the girl. "Guess I can't play anymore."

She perked up. "Oh well, elephants are my second favorite anyway!" And after thanking him, she skipped off to her waiting mother.

Minmei smiled at Joons' side. She cradled a giant stuffed tiger under her arm. It was a little scruffy around the shoulders, and had a generic expression that mimicked just about every famous cartoon tiger at once. But she loved it all the same.

"You know where I'm gonna put this?" she mused. "Right next to my bed. And I'm gonna give him a big hug every night before I go to sleep!"

Joons glanced down at the tiger's expression; halfway between a smile and a painful grimace. "He looks like he could _use_ a hug."

"Well, I happen to think he's handsome." Minmei ruffled the tiger's hair. "What should I call him?"

"...How about Tex?"

Minmei frowned. "No! There's already a Tex the Tiger!"

"Yeah, but his face kinda looks like Tex, doesn't it?"

She held the tiger up. "I guess...but his tail has stripes like _Toby_ the Tiger. Should we call him Toby?"

"How about Frankenstein?" Joons grinned.

Minmei laughed and threw the tiger lightly into the air. She caught it with cradled arms and gave it a hug. "I've got it!"

"Oh?" asked Joons, putting the handgun away and zipping up his jacket.

She stepped in front of him, and smiled at him with bold eyes. "I'll call him Little Mike!"

Joons couldn't help but laugh. "...You think?"

"Well, sure!" Minmei held the tiger against Joons' shoulder. "See? You're both proud and majestic, you're clever hunters...and you're a little scruffy on top."

"Hey!" Joons winced, as she ruffled his hair.

"_But, _I'll let that slide for now."

He walked through the midway with her, taking in all of the strange sights. He hadn't felt this calm in weeks. He'd been carrying a terrible burden, one that lay in the pit of his stomach and kept him from sleeping at night. He was young man, not even twenty, sharing a world with two races of beings, and not belonging to either one.

But if he had to tell his secret to someone, he knew it would be Minmei. She loosened him up and brought out the best of him. It was something he rarely ever felt. When Minmei was around, she lifted the burden off his shoulders. Or at least made him forget about it for a while.

"You know," he said, "I'm having a really good time."

But Minmei didn't reply. After a moment, he glanced down, and noticed that she wasn't paying attention. She was looking excitedly at a crowd of people in the distance.

"I knew it!" she cried. "Drew! Hey, over here!"

A tall, well-muscled young man escaped from the crowd. He ran up and greeted Minmei, and they started talking as though Joons didn't exist. He shrugged and stepped aside, but kept a close eye.

"Oh, wait a minute!" said Minmei. She pointed at Joons as he waited with folded arms. "Drew, I want you to meet someone! This is Mike Joons, the pilot I told you about!"

"The one at Briggs' party?" asked the hulking Drew, with a deep voice.

"No no, the one who saved me at the airport. Remember?"

He looked Joons over with a dull face. "Uh...yeah, okay. So what're you, like a sergeant?"

Joons crossed his arms. "I fly in the Skull Squadron," he said, in hopes of boosting his image a little.

But Minmei sure wasn't in his corner. She leaned over to Drew and whispered, "he's a lieutenant."

"Oh," shrugged Drew, oblivious.

She began to converse with him again. Joons rolled his eyes and casually stepped away. He felt threatened by the lazy teenager but he wasn't sure why.

But soon, Minmei remembered Joons again, and she turned around looking for him. "Mike, you're being awful quiet!" she said.

"Oh...sorry," Joons replied. "So...uh, Drew...how do you know Minmei?" He was still uncomfortable saying her name out loud in public.

Minmei cut in before Drew could answer. "He's the best! Drew is my producer's best friend's second cousin! He throws the _best _parties."

"You don't say," nodded Joons.

"I _do _say," the young man replied, with a devious smile at Minmei. Joons wondered how many bullets were left in his ARM-25.

"Hey listen," Drew said to Minmei, "me an' some buddies rented a limo, and we're just kinda cruising around town. You oughtta come with us!"

Minmei squealed with delight. "Oh, that sounds great! We could stop at that new club in the Warehouse District!"

Joons spoke up awkwardly. "Uh, Minmei, I don't think I can make it. I'm getting reassigned tomorrow morning, so I can't hang around too late..."

Minmei and Drew looked at him without speaking. He suddenly felt like finding a place to hide.

She burst into a good-natured laugh. "I'd love to take you along, Mike...but it's sort of a VIP club. I don't think they'd let you in. Maybe next time, okay?"

"Sure...next time."

She ran off with the boy without saying goodbye. Before they were too far away, Drew turned around and pointed a finger at Joons. "You get some rest, sergeant!" he scoffed.

As Joons stood where he was, he heard Minmei's distant reply.

_I told you, he's a lieutenant!_

* * *

Joons stuffed the giant tiger into his black humvee truck. Minmei had left it behind when she ran off. He had never been so embarrassed as he'd carried the tiger, alone, all the way to the parking lot. He slammed the door and wondered why he was even keeping it.

He looked back at the Harvest Festival and struggled to keep his composure. _These humans...they're just as hostile as we Zentraedi are. They just don't hurt you the same way. And it's harder to fight back, too..._

As he looked at the distant people, he wondered how many of them were wounded.

He turned his eyes from them and opened the door to his military-issue truck. But before he could climb in, he heard one of them cry out.

_Malcontent! Malcontent! Someone help!_

It only took him a second to get back to the fair. By the time he reached the source of the cry, a crowd of people had already gathered. A middle-aged man was wailing hysterically amidst them as he sat on the ground.

Joons grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him off the ground. The crowd was shocked at his strength.

"Quiet down," he said, "you're going to start a riot."

The man shouted in panic. "...You're one of them too!"

Joons set him down on his feet. "I'm RDF. What happened?"

"I was attacked!" he cried, somewhat quieter. "I'm just standing here behind the counter tryin' to make a living, and this _huge _Zentraedi bum comes at me!"

_I don't think he was very big, _said someone in the crowd.

_I think it was a woman! _said another.

"I know what I saw!" the man snapped. "And he grabbed me by the throat and punched me right in the jaw!"

Joons looked at the man's face. It seemed fine. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I dunno...I might want to go home or something."

_He just wants to get off work!_

_No, I saw it happen!_

"What provoked him?" asked Joons.

"Well...you're not gonna believe this, but he reached up and stole one of my teddy bears."

_He's gotta be kidding!_

_This guy's not for real._

Joons looked at him sternly. "Don't fool with me," he said. "I'm having a bad day as it is."

"I swear, that's just what he did. Took my teddy bear and ran off behind the tents."

"Fine," Joons sighed. He stepped through the crowd and headed for the tents.

The man brushed off his pants. "Hey kid!" he called out. "Whatchyou gonna do about it?"

"Find the Malcontent. Maybe I can get your bear back."

The crowd chuckled as he walked away, in search of a crazed Zentraedi who steals teddy bears. _I want to go home, _he thought.

* * *

Night had fallen quickly on the fairgrounds. Joons had been searching for almost an hour. The people were beginning to leave for the night, but he kept looking for the malcontent Zentraedi. Something prodded him on, a strange feeling that he could not explain. Joons knew he was crazy, but he continued searching anyway, if only to prove everyone wrong.

_Something has to go my way today, _he thought.

He passed by a storm sewer drain that he'd walked by countless times now. If there really had been a Zentraedi, he thought, it was probably long gone by now. What criminal would stay next door to the crime scene?

As he stepped by the deep trench where the pipe was exposed, he heard the sound of a muffled cough.

He called down but no one responded. But he knew that someone was there. He pulled out his handgun and slid down into the trench. Its walls were so deep that he disappeared inside, and the storm pipe was large enough for him to walk into. But the tunnel inside was pitch dark.

"Come out!" he shouted uneasily. "This is the RDF. I'd like to have a word with you."

He heard slow movement from inside. Joons waited alertly, and left the gun at his side.

"Come on," he said. "This won't take long."

A voice finally called back to him. But it was quiet and weak -- the voice of a girl.

_I am coming...please don't hurt me..._

She stepped into the light, with her shoulder leaning against the pipe. And he knew her immediately. It was the blue-haired Zentraedi girl. The one who escaped from the torture chamber in the Warehouse District. The one he freed form the chains.

Her face was covered with scratches and her hair was matted down. She was still wearing the rags from when Joons had freed her. An old, torn up blanket was dragging in the water behind her. Her mouth hung open and she panted her breaths painfully. Her bare legs were thin and sickly, and she held her stomach with a shaking hand.

And by the look of terror that filled her eyes, she recognized him too.

The girl fell into the water of the sewer pipe and backed away. She cried meekly and struggled to keep from slipping.

Joons held out his hand. "Wait! Please, stop!"

She froze in her place and tried to blink away her tears.

He slowly put the gun back in his jacket. "Don't...don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." But his mind raced with all of the violent images she witnessed that night. His chest armor slashed with knife marks, and his bloody battle with her sadistic keeper. A battle that ended with the keeper's body lifeless on the floor.

She sniffed at a running nose, and tried to calm her shaking. "I am sorry," she whispered. A ripped-up teddy bear lay in her outstretched hands. "Please…take it back."

"Oh," he smiled, "no big deal...it's cool."

The girl's blue eyes were dim. She blinked wearily and tried to swallow. "I...do not...understand."

She sighed, slumped against the pipe, and gently slid into the cold water. Joons caught her before her head slipped under. He drew her close, and carried her on his shoulders as he climbed out of the trench.

As he crawled over the edge, he looked up to the cloudy night sky. A squadron of Veritech fighters streaked across the darkness, leaving majestic streaks of bright blue light.


	9. Welcome to the Family

CHAPTER 9

_Legions shall rise up against me, but I shall stand firm as a pillar of truth for the Zentraedi people. A great warrior I shall create for myself, a loyal servant to slay my foes. He shall be called Eo Prime, First of the Defenders. His mind and heart bourne of flesh, his body forged of iron and gold, he shall reign terror on those who stand against my rule. He shall fly on the wings of his Brother, the mighty Ghost. The Zentraedi shall bow before Eo Prime, and he shall kneel only to me._

_He shall be treated as though he were my son. His body shall never be cloned, and when he breathes his last, the stars will shed their tears upon his grave._

_- Excerpt from the Book of Zor_

* * *

Rick sat with Lisa on a bench in Fortress Park. It was right in the middle of downtown New Macross, between the legs of the giant SDF-1. There was a fountain where people threw coins and made a wish. And a memorial plaque, which nobody ever read.

Rick looked up at the night stars. Lisa leaned into his arms and looked with him.

"We'll be up there soon," she said.

"I can hardly believe it," said Rick.

"Just like we were in the war…only…a little different now."

Rick looked down at Lisa and held her close. "Are you worried about going?"

She shook her head. "No…I'm not. This might sound strange, but…I'm really looking forward to it."

Rick nodded his head quietly.

"When we were aboard the SDF-1, all I ever thought about was getting us home. But then we came home, and the war followed us. It changed everything…and now, I can't stand it here."

"Neither can I," said Rick.

"I hate what this place is turning into."

"Me too. But we can't just give up on it. Somebody has to turn it around."

A group of young men and women came through the park. They were all dressed awkwardly – their clothing was out of style and it didn't match. All of them had brightly colored hair. They were tall and proud.

Rick and Lisa knew they were all Zentraedi. It was common for Zentraedi people to stick together in groups. Many of them were trying their best to fit in – but they still didn't associate much with the humans.

They came up the path, talking amongst themselves quietly. They all seemed very tired. But some of them were smiling. The humans in the park shot them dirty looks and scowls as they passed. The Zentraedi ignored it.

They stopped at the feet of the mammoth SDF-1. All of them looked up, silently except for some quiet whispers. A young man with green hair stepped up to the fence and leaned over; he couldn't reach the monument to touch it.

He looked over his shoulder at Rick and Lisa.

"Are you a soldier?" he asked.

Rick smiled a little. "Pilot," he said.

"Veritech?"

"Mm-hmm."

The Zentraedi nodded his head solemnly. "I was a battle pod pilot."

Rick stood up and offered his hand. "Rick Hunter," he said, and introduced Lisa.

The alien took the handshake. Soon Rick and Lisa were meeting the whole group. New Macross citizens walked by with their usual scornful looks – and now they were directed to Rick and Lisa as well.

The green-haired Zentraedi introduced his friends one by one, with great importance. "We all belonged to the same battle group," he explained. "So we have remained close. We try to assist each other in learning about this world. It is not often that a human wishes to speak with us."

Rick laughed to himself. Two years ago they'd probably been shooting at each other.

"We all have some adjusting to do," he said. "But remember…you're welcome here. There's plenty of room for Zentraedi on Earth."

The green-haired man gave an embarrassed smile. "Yes, there is. We have blown enough _holes_ in your planet to fit ourselves nicely."

Everyone laughed – Rick, Lisa and all the Zentraedi. They stood around in the park for a long time. Rick and the young men chatted about flying – how exciting it was to be cruising through the sky. And the women gathered around Lisa, asking all sorts of questions – where she'd gotten her dress, and how to style their hair just the way she did. Lisa couldn't help but laugh at the questions – but she tried her best to help.

The green-haired man pointed up to a sign, hanging from the tree trunks. "What does that say?" he asked.

"Oh, that's from the Harvest Festival," said Rick. "It was earlier today."

"What do you harvest in New Macross?"

"People's money," said Lisa.

They all laughed again.

* * *

Joons tested the water in his bath tub. It was just warm enough, he thought. _Not too hot...I don't want to startle her..._

He stepped into his apartment's small living room, just big enough for a sofa and a television. It was a little cluttered, but he rarely spent time in the apartment anyway. He only cleaned on the rare occasion that Minmei was coming over. He wished it looked nicer for this unexpected guest.

She lay on the couch, still unconscious, in her rags and cloth slippers. Her body was bruised and scraped, and even though the apartment was warm, she was shivering.

He slowly picked her up and brought her into the bathroom. She rested her head against his shoulder as she slept.

Joons was a nervous wreck. He tried to kneel down and lay her on the bathroom rug, but he almost dropped her three times. Her frail body shifted in his arms; he was terrified that he might break it.

Finally, he was able to set her down gently. He stepped back and took an accomplished breath.

_There we go, _he thought. _See, that wasn't so hard! Piece of cake, nothing to it._

He sighed.

_...I have no idea what I'm doing._

He gently pulled off her slippers. She groaned sorely and tried to blink herself awake, but Joons quickly knelt over her and smiled.

"Just relax" he said. "You're...you're just fine. You're safe now. You're just fine."

She gave a labored exhale and fell asleep again.

He watched her breathe for a moment, just to be certain, and brushed the dirty blue hair from her face. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but smile at her.

_All right, _he sighed to himself. _You look like you could use a nice soak in the tub. I just hope you don't wake up...you look like you haven't slept in days. Yeah, you need your sleep for sure._

She feebly itched at the hem of her dress.

Joons' eyes snapped open. "Uh-oh" he groaned.

_How's she going to undress! I can't...just...do it myself! And even if I did, am I supposed to just bathe her while she sleeps? I'm terrible at this..._

He tried to gently shake her, but she would not wake back up. She panted as she slept deeply. Joons sighed and sat back against the bathroom wall, wondering in frustration how he even got himself into this.

And then, without notice or provocation, he went completely blind.

His vision came back before he could cry out. But it was changed; he saw everything in a fuzzy haze of blending colors. He stumbled to his feet rubbing his eyes, but the strange vision would not go away.

His heart raced in a panic. He was too frightened to scream or run, so he stood completely still against the wall. He stared down at his shaking hands, the carpet on the floor, the bath tub, hoping to gain some of his old clarity back.

As he calmed down, he realized what he was experiencing. It was the same effect as looking through heat-vision binoculars, or an infra-red rifle scope. The colder surfaces, like the sink and the mirror above it, were sharply detailed and colored dark blue. But the things that gave off heat, like Joons' hands, were bathed in a bright yellow and red glow. The bathroom lights were so intense, they gave Joons a headache. He reached up and turned them all off.

_How...is this happening? _he breathed, sliding down the wall once again.

He looked back at the Zentraedi girl. He could hear her distant breathing; she was still shivering. But her body heat covered her like a cocoon. He could no longer make out the details of her figure.

Joons gave a deep sigh and swallowed in his dry throat. He gently lifted the girl into his arms, and felt along her neck for the buttons of her dress.

_Please don't wake up, _he thought.

* * *

He poked around inside the kitchen cupboard. _Come on, you're in here somewhere._

He came out triumphantly with a small bottle of aspirin. The changes to his vision were only temporary, it seemed, because they disappeared right after Joons had finished bathing the girl. But they left a monster of a headache behind.

He popped a few pills into his mouth and went back to the stove, where he was making pancakes on the burners. As the batter popped and fizzled, Joons could see the small blue flecks of multi-vitamins that he had added. _Hope she can't taste the difference, _he thought. _Those oughtta help get some nourishment in her..._

It didn't take long to prepare a whole stack of pancakes. Joons brought it to his table; the blue-haired girl was waiting there for him. She was dressed warmly, in Joons' thermal t-shirt and a pair of extra heavy sweatpants. And she was wrapped in a few blankets for good measure, but she was still shivering.

She was cleaner and warmer, but still exhausted as ever. Her eyes were barely open and she stared down at the table distantly. Joons had rubbed some medication on her face, but it was still scratched and bruised. Her hair was puffed up like a giant blue fur ball. She held her stomach weakly but she never complained.

Joons pulled up a chair beside her and made her a plate. "Hey there," he said, somewhat stiffly. "You should have something to eat."

The girl stared down at the plate and held her stomach, but she did not touch the food.

"It's...really good, you know," he added. "It'll help you sleep better too."

She swallowed nervously and sighed.

"Oh...well, that's all right. You just eat when you're ready."

Joons made a plate for himself and began to eat. The girl lifted her eyes, and watched him for a long time. She picked up her fork and tried to imitate the way he held it.

His heart sank as he watched. After she tried a few times without any luck, he reached around her back and held her hand. He gently instructed her, without saying very much. Before long, the girl had almost eaten the whole stack.

"Pretty good, eh?" Joons smiled proudly.

She nodded slowly, with her head downcast.

"Yup...yeah, I'm a terrible cook, but at least I can make some pancakes..."

The girl sipped at a glass of milk. She shivered under the blankets.

They sat in silence for a while, until Joons felt he had to do something.

"So..." he said, scratching his hair nervously. "Um...what's your name?"

She put down the glass. _Naoko_, she whispered meekly.

"Naoko," he repeated. "It's...nice to meet you. My name is Joons."

She nodded and slowly blinked her eyes. Joons watched her carefully place her fork onto her plate. A tear ran down her cheek, but she quickly pawed it away.

_You…saved me,_ she whispered.

"Mm-hmm."

Her eyes began to droop again. _Why…did you…save…?_

"I'm a soldier," he said, gently putting his arm around her. "That's what I do. I look for people who need help…and I save them."

_Oh…_ she whispered, blinking in and out of her trance.

Joons laughed. "And then I take them home and make them pancakes."

…_You saved me… _she sighed.

Naoko showed a little trace of a smile. Her eyes closed, and she nearly slipped out of her seat. Joons caught her, and let her fall into his arms.

He laid the girl down on his sofa and watched her sleep. Poor Naoko was completely exhausted. He was afraid to leave her side.

After a few minutes, she began to stir and shiver. She whispered something in her sleep. Joons hopped up, ran into his bedroom and brought out more blankets. But Naoko wouldn't stop shivering, no matter how tightly he covered her.

He gently picked her back up in his arms and rested her against his chest. To his surprise, she calmed down. So he sat on the sofa, held her close and wrapped her back up.

"Well, I guess you're friendly," he smiled.

Naoko smiled in her sleep.

"You know something?" he whispered to her gently. "You're the scariest thing I've ever had to face. I am _terrified _of you."

Naoko snuggled him warmly. She pressed up against him and gave a blissful sigh.

"Yup," Joons nodded. "I'm terrified."

* * *

Rick and Lisa walked together through downtown New Macross. They had just parted ways with the group of Zentraedi. It had put a smile on both their faces.

They passed Lynn's Chinese Restaurant. There was a line out the door and down the street. Rick knew the place well – Minmei's aunt and uncle still ran the place. There was a sign in the window – _Sorry, Minmei is NOT here tonight._

"Does she even come there anymore?" asked Lisa.

"I doubt it," Rick laughed. "She'd get mobbed."

"I wonder if _Kyle _comes here," Lisa giggled.

"I _really _doubt that."

They were just about to hail a taxi home, when Rick's phone beeped. He'd just received a new text message. It was from Lieutenant Joons.

"He's trying to call you _now?" _Lisa asked.

"Yeah…says he wants me to come to his place. Some kind of emergency."

"Think he's all right?"

"Eh…he's probably fine. I get these messages all the time. Once, he called me to ask why there was a 'water storage reservoir' in his new apartment. Turns out it was the bath tub."

"He's certainly come a long way!" Lisa laughed.

"Yeah…a lot faster than most Zentraedi. He's really lucky."

* * *

_I swear…sometimes I think I'm cursed._

Joons sighed to himself as he sat on the living room floor, in the dark. The little girl Naoko was sleeping soundly on his sofa. She was wrapped up snugly in blankets, so that only her puff of just-dried blue hair was poking out.

Joons sat at her side, gently rubbing her back. She seemed to like it – it was keeping her calm, at least.

"You are one scary creature," he whispered to her with a smile. "But…you're a lot less scary when you're asleep."

To his chagrin, she didn't stay that way for long. Naoko's eyes blinked open and she gasped sharply. She began to struggle out of the blankets.

"Oh...oh no...I am sorry!"

Joons helped her off the sofa. She fumbled onto the floor in her baggy clothes, nearly in tears.

"Umm…okay…okay, try to calm down," he said nervously. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"

She gasped. "Please do not hurt me! Please, I did not mean to sleep in your bed! I do not know how I got there!"

"No. No calm _down_…I'm not going to hurt you. You're gonna hurt _yourself _if you keep…"

Naoko backed away from him, frightened. She bumped into an end table and sent it crashing over. She screamed and hid behind the sofa.

Joons crossed his legs and sat down where he was. He waited for a while, trying to keep calm. It wasn't easy.

Finally, he took a breath and whispered, "Hi there, Naoko."

_Hello, _she said meekly from behind the sofa.

"Did you…um…did you have a bad dream? Because you're…safe here, you know. You're okay."

She didn't say anything. Joons saw her head poke up from behind the sofa, just enough to see him. He smiled and waved at her gently. She yelped feebly and hid again.

"Naoko," he asked. "Are you…afraid of me?"

_I…y-yes, I am…_

"Well, I understand. I mean…this is _scary. _All these new things are happening at once…and I'm a stranger, and you saw me do some…uh…some fighting, and that was _really _scary. But I want to try and explain…"

_You are what is called a 'soldier.' You are strong and righteous…you are a warrior of this world. And you came to take us away from our Master. Other soldiers have tried, but only you were strong enough._

Joons blinked his eyes.

"Hmm. Well…that's pretty accurate."

_Do I…understand?_

"I think so."

Naoko peeked out once again. She watched his eyes and his smile carefully.

_Then…you have chosen me?_

She crawled back onto the carpet with Joons. He gave her the most winning smile he could. He wondered if she could tell how scared he was.

Naoko slowly got down on her knees. She bowed before him with her face on the ground, and her thin arms stretched out on the floor. Her small shoulders rose and fell when she breathed.

"My master," she whispered nervously. "I am Naoko...your humble and willing slave."

Joons felt his headache getting worse.

"I am a docile and obedient creature...and I am very easy to take care of. I will not trouble you at all."

He watched her silently, shocked at the whole thing. He had no idea what to do.

"I only wish to please you...and...and your every will...shall become my...m-my..."

Naoko began to shiver again. She dug her fingers into the carpet and began to cry. Joons came up beside her.

"I cannot...remember," she sobbed, rubbing her bruised face on the floor in agony. "I am so sorry...I practiced it so much..."

He held her shoulders, and slowly lifted her up from the ground. Naoko's eyes were swollen, bloodshot, and lined with dark circles. Her blue hair was matted to her face with tears. She cried and shivered, but never looked back at his gaze.

He drew her close, and rested her head against his shoulder. "It's all right" he breathed. "I think you did just fine."

She shook her head lightly against his neck. "I forgot..."

He placed a hand on her head, and another across her back. "Don't worry" he said. "I forget things all the time! It's all right."

"I am trying...my best..." she sighed.

"I know. You're doing a really good job...I'm proud of you."

"Then...you will...keep me?"

He blushed with embarrassment. "Well, of course I will. You're welcome here for as long as you want."

Naoko sighed in his arms. "Thank you," she whispered. "I promise...I will not disappoint you...I really am a good sla- _ohhh..._" She grabbed her head and winced sharply.

Joons touched her chin and slowly lifted her head. Her glassy blue eyes met with his. She tried to look away, but Joons held her still. "What's wrong" he asked.

"I...well...nothing" she sighed, keeping her eyes downcast.

He frowned and shook his head. "Close your eyes," he said.

Naoko slowly closed her eyes. Joons rested her head against his shoulder. He felt the soft brushing of her hair against his cheek, and smelled the mild shampoo that he had rubbed into her hair. She sniffled feebly, and shivered in his arms. He could feel the throbbing in her aching head.

He didn't know what else to say, or if he should even speak at all. So he sat with her on the floor, cradling her in his arms until she fell asleep. He laid her down under the covers of his own bed, took a blanket from the closet, and tried to sleep on the sofa. But he tossed and turned for hours with Naoko on his mind. He checked on her every few minutes and always found her sound asleep, with a little smile across her face. After a while, he convinced himself to leave her alone.

But he didn't sleep for long, until a distant moan woke him up. He looked down, and found the blue-haired girl asleep on the floor at his feet. She was curled up tightly against the sofa, but she was not shivering.

* * *

_It's freezing out here. Why isn't he coming to the door?_

Rick stood impatiently at the entrance to Joons' apartment. Lisa was at his side, with his pilot's jacket wrapped around her shoulders for warmth. It was nearly two in the morning.

"You didn't have to come with me," Rick smiled to Lisa.

"Well, now you've got _me _worried about him," she smiled back.

The door finally opened. Lieutenant Joons was still in his clothes from the day. His dusty brown hair was in a mess. He looked like a bundle of nerves.

"Good evening, sir," he sighed. "Oh! And…Commander Hayes…hello."

"Hi Joons," she smiled.

"You okay?" asked Rick.

Lieutenant Joons sighed again. "No…I am _not, _sir."

He led them into the house, making sure they were quiet. And he brought them to the living room, where young Naoko was asleep on the floor. Blankets were carefully tucked around her.

Lisa covered her smiling mouth and gasped.

"Shh!" whispered Joons. "Please, don't wake her up."

Lisa knelt down to see her closely. "Joons…she's precious! Who is she?"

"A Zentraedi," he replied. "She was one of the girls in the Warehouse District…I guess...I rescued her."

"Oh my gosh…the poor thing! Oh, she must be terrified!"

"She's okay now," smiled Joons. "I think she's finally calming down. Seriously, don't wake her."

Rick stood quietly beside his tired friend. "She looks about your age," he said. "Maybe a couple years younger. Think she was a soldier?"

"Not a chance," whispered Joons.

"Is she nice?"

"Um…_yes."_

"What's her name?"

"Naoko."

Rick put his hand on Joons' shoulder.

"So…why am I here at two in the morning?"

"Sir…what am I supposed to do?"

"How am _I _supposed to know!?"

"Well…you'd know better than me!"

"Why?"

"Because you _taught _me about this world!"

"Then...teach _her _what I taught _you."_

Lisa was on her knees, inching closer to the girl. Naoko's body rose and fell with her breaths under the blankets.

"Oh my goodness…this poor girl…she's just the cutest thing ever!"

"Ma'am!" whispered Joons. "Commander…please be careful…she's very sensitive…"

Naoko stirred awake. Her eyes blinked open, and the first thing she saw was Lisa kneeling over her with open arms.

"Oh, hello darling!" smiled Lisa.

Naoko screamed in terror and buried herself under the blankets. "Help!" she cried. "Help me! Please…oh, please help me!!"

"Whoa!" laughed Rick.

"Oh _here _we go," sighed Joons.

He ran into the living room and dove onto the carpet. He scooped up Naoko, blankets and all, and gave her a warm hug.

"It's okay, it's okay!" he whispered to her. "I'm sorry they scared you. They're my friends. They're really nice people. They just came to visit."

Naoko's head popped up from the blankets. She buried her face in his chest. _I am so scared…_

"Don't worry! I'm right here!"

_Please hide me…oh please, hide me…can they see me? Will they hurt me?_

He gently rocked her in his arms. "It's all right…everything's fine, Naoko. I'm right here."

Joons looked up at Rick and Lisa with the most terrified look on his face. Lisa's heart melted at the sight. But Rick thought it was absolutely hilarious.


End file.
